#Especially when the hand belongs to a strong gladiator

[aldormu]

[fleshdyke]

fuck it, i was gonna wait until i finished the ref sheets to post my headcanons, but since my pencil is broken and i can’t draw right now, i’m just gonna make a text post

(please reblog i worked really hard on this)

wings of fire tribe headcanons!

mudwings

large, curved horns. males have larger ones

very big ears

big ol nose. kinda like a dog’s

large, durable teeth that stick out their mouth (top and bottom)

short wings, not great for long flights

two rows of back spines, right next to each other. they split partway down the back and the middle area widens until they’re almost at the sides of the tail

wide, strong tail, sometimes used as a shovel

tail can make a loud drum-like noise when slapped against the ground, and this is often used as a display of aggression and dominance

saliva contains a very mild venom that can paralyze prey if it enters an open wound. can only affect a dragon in very high doses

sleep pretty much anywhere, but often nap buried in mud

bury their eggs in mud and build mounds around them for extra protection + warmth

egg/hatchling mortality rate is very low

eat a diet of mostly meat and swamp birds, but some fish. plants are consumed almost exclusively for medicinal purposes

known for being exceptional chefs

mudwings are particularly fond of spicy food

farms aren’t super common, but many mudwings are ranchers

sandwings

large ears and eyes

very sharp hearing, smell, and sight

small faces, good for digging in sand

very wide wingspan, can fly very long distances without stopping/sustenance

second-best fliers of all tribes, next to skywings

very long, flexible tails

tail barbs make a rattling noise, and can be vibrated in a way that other tribes can’t to make that loud rattle

venom is never used for hunting, because the toxins can transfer to whoever consumes it via the meat and blood

each back talon has a large, sharp sickle claw

sleep most often indoors or buried in sand (they also do this to cool off)

eat mostly meat, but also enjoy plants such as coconut, cactus, and aloe

no “middle class”, most sandwings are either very rich or very poor

trade skills are extremely valuable to most dragons

smallest pyrrhian tribe

seawings

dull teeth, use bony protrusions from upper jaw to catch fish

no external ears

cannot hear anything while underwater, because a fin covers the ear to prevent water from getting in

bodies covered in feelers that can release venom on command

small and narrow wings

short but powerful tail

claws are virtually useless in battle, as they use their pseudoteeth to catch fish, but can deliver venom

fat and blubbery

very smooth and small scales, almost skin-like

sleep either in small coral caves or drifting in the open ocean with half their brains awake

eat a diet of mostly fish and marine animals, but some tropical and aquatic plants

venom is mostly used for hunting, but high doses can seriously injure and kill a dragon

high beauty standards

coral is beloved to seawings, and to harm it is one of the highest offences

skywings

hard, sharp “beak” on the end of their snout (both upper and lower jaw)

branched horns, grow more points with age

pointy ears

long, narrow bodies

very wide wingspan

feathered wings

feathers on the end of the tail, act as a rudder

the more fire, the darker the skywing’s scales

firescales are black and have phoenix-like feathers

sleep like birds, with their head between their wings, but sometimes catch high air currents and sleep while flying

can go for weeks without touching land

eat a diet of fresh meat and occasionally bone shards and marrow. birds of prey are *never* hunted

one of the only farming and ranching tribes

birds of prey are common pets and hunting companions, raptors can form strong bonds with their skywing owners

hold a yearly olympics-style athletic competition, mostly sports, but sometimes gladiator activities are a part of the ceremony

very fond of sparkly things, especially gold

rainwings

small snouts

large eyes, have impressive night vision to help them see in the darkness of the rainforest

small, flexible wings, not good for long-distance flight

long limbs

large claws

long barbed tongue, to reach hard-to-get food

always brightly coloured, often with hypnotic patterns, to ward away bugs

skin is slightly toxic

long midsections

underscales are hard, mostly to protect their tails and stomachs as they swing from rough tree branches

sleep either in treehouses or in the branches

eat lots of fruit, flower nectar, and tree sap. they also eat lots of bugs, and occasionally a fish

talented gardeners, high-class rainwings and royalty often hire florists to decorate their homes with colourful plants

many rainwings care for a wide variety of pets, including parrots, tropical fish, toxic frogs, snakes, lizards, and ocelots

icewings

impressive sense of smell and sight

pointed ears, furry flaps over the ear canal to keep too much cold air from entering

large tusks that jut out from the upper lip

large, furry talons to keep the snow and ice from freezing their sensitive palms

long, sharp claws

large wings with spiky scales on the “hand”, often are used to aid in walking

wings have fur down the edges of the outermost “finger”, and have thick membranes, meaning they are very good insulators

furred mane down the back, which the sharp spines stick out of

breathing in makes the neck spikes clatter together, making a light, tinking, xylophone-like sound

tail has a large tuft of fur to help keep warm while curled up

sleep indoors when possible, but their large talons and claws are good for digging burrows in the snow when needed

eat a diet of entirely meat and fish, as no plants survive in the tundra

icewings are one of the most progressive tribes, despite them being so isolated from the rest of the continent

generally have good relations with skywings and seawings

royals are considered “stars”, and icewing celebrities are often very glamorous and are constantly followed by paparazzi and tabloids

many icewings dye their manes different colours

are much more aquatic than in canon, can hold their breath longer than a mudwing and there is a part of their palace that is underwater

icewings get furballs from cleaning their fur, like cats. it’s kinda gross

biggest of all tribes

nightwings

large ears, which are pointed upwards in a resting position

have a fleshy nose thing, like most bats

have a very sharp sense of smell

small, straight horns

pointy wings

wing membrane connects to legs, which then connects to the tail

long, flexible back legs

sleep upside-down, hanging from rocky ceilings

nightwings are scavengers, and will eat almost anything

very academically-focused

most nightwings are strong believers in the paranormal, and enjoy ghost stories

one of the most scientifically advanced tribes, and despite popular belief, will happily teach other tribes how to build some of their machines, had they ever asked

all tribes

amount of fire/frostbreath varies from dragon to dragon, and it’s just something a dragon is born with. it can’t be changed and dragons have seriously injured themselves while trying to

order of average flight skill, best to worst: skywings, sandwings, icewings, nightwings, mudwings, seawings, rainwings

order of average size, largest to smallest: icewings, mudwings, skywings, seawings, nightwings, rainwings, sandwings

chairs are small platforms or branch-like perches. how common the type of chair is depends on the tribe, as perches are more common in the sky kingdom, and platforms are more common in the sand kingdom. the graphic novel chairs can eat ass

all dragons shed their scales once a year, like how birds molt their feathers. this is an uncomfortable and hormonal time and tempers run high during molting

all dragonets have one large molt around the time they turn five, similar to how children lose their baby teeth. i think either this or regular molting was eluded to in dragonslayer, but yeah

females are slightly larger than males

and we’re done! i don’t have quite enough on the pantala tribes yet to make a full list, but i will update this when i do.

if anyone has any of their own headcanons they’d like to share, please do! and tell me if you’d like me to/you’re okay with me adding them to my list, because i’d love to grow this a little more!

i will post the reference sheets for these as soon as i finish them :>

feel free to use these!! i would absolutely LOVE if anyone did 😭

(mudwing, icewing, and sandwing sounds belong to @skleetheirken, tysm for letting me add em!)

pantala addition

illustrations

[kanohivolitakk]

Fixing Bionicles species problem Part 1: Inhabitants of Stelt

(This post is part of a headcanon series where I try to tackle Bionicles issues regarding how the series is rather infuriatingly vague with its worldbuilding surrounding most non Matoran and non Makuta species in the Matoran Universe by expanding the lore of those other species. The introduction to the series is here, while the masterlist for every post in this project is found here)

Soo, lets start this series relatively simple by tackling a species (or multiple species) we actually DO have some vague information on, that being the inhabitants on Stelt. Because we have some information on them already, this is less coming up with new ideas and more just ironing out the concepts we have.

Stelt is in my opinion one of the more interesting underdeveloped locations in the Matoran Universe. This is due to how the island has a very specific set of hierarchies: There’s an upper class of warrior-king like rulers and a lower class of workers. Yet at the same time theres an unrest due to the constant infighting for power of the higher class. This makes Stelt an interesting warrior like society.

So first things first:I do like to divide the steltians into two main species, those being the upperclass Steltian Rulers (like Sidorak and Voporak) and the lowerclass Steltian Bruisers (like Krekka). These species are LOOSELY connected to each other from a biological standpoint, as the bruisers were designed by the Great Beings to serve as workers both in general but especially for Steltian Rulers. Neither of the Steltian species have any direct biological connection to other/relation to species. The Steltian Rulers were just one of the many creations by the Great Beings that could serve a purpose as leaders that saw the different civilizations in the world functioned and communicated with each other. That being said Steltian rulers do interact with other ruling/leader species as not only did they fight against others for dominance they also founded alliances and bonds with them, such as the “marriage” between Sidorak and Roodaka.

So for physical traits, both species are among the taller species of the MU, bruisers being among the tallest as well as rather bulky. What makes Steltian Rulers interesting is that they are among few species with a similarish build and purpose that is NOT reptilian in any fashion, instead resembling more a humanoid creature that could be seen as bull like thanks to its horns (no relation to the Artakha/Karzhani Bulls or Kanera rahi tho). Both species have small variety in height/build. Both species are monosex (read no sexual dimorphism/clear differences like say Vortixx have) and while they can be of different genders, most steltians are male (still need to iron out my specifics on how gender and sex function in MU but that’s another post for another day).

As for their characteristics and traits, rulers are normally rather territorial and prideful, although they can work with others. Because of their culture and territioral nature they tend to fight against each other, although they do have alliances/clans. Each clan has their leader that’s the most respected member of the clan. Betraying clan leaders is seen as a crime that can lead to exile or even worse. Bruisers are more brawn than anything else, although it should be noted that not every Bruiser is as stupid as Krekka.

For their roles in society, Steltian Rulers were in all sorts of roles from commanders in armies to informants to salesmen. Usually the roles demanded some kind of socialization and/or. Steltian Bruisers on the other hand were warriors and workers. They served as bodyguards, guards, fighters/soldiers and other similar works. They also did hard laborous tasks that few other species were capable of doing.

For characters who are members of the species, Sidorak and Voporak are Steltian Rulers, much like in canon. I also may make one of the Barraki into one (most likely Kalmah or Mantax) although that will be discussed when I get to my ideas regarding the Barraki warlords and what species they belong to.

Besides Krekka, I also like to headcanon the dark hunter Gladiator is a Steltian Bruiser, as he is a strong fighter who orginated as a slave from Stelt. There isn’t anything that suggests Gladiator NOT being a bruiser, so him being a bruiser works well with his character (yes I know his design isn’t similar to Krekkas but thats not something small design rework cannot fix + as said I do hc the bruiser species looking rather diverse soo).

It should be noted that despite their name the Steltian species do exist in other parts of the MU: some Steltian rulers live on other islands either as leaders or as traders/informants/warlords while bruisers are used all over the MU by numerous individuals and factions. It should be also noted that Stelt does have other species than the two main ones. It’s just that Rulers and Bruisers are Stelt natives. Most non-natives belong to the lower class.

So here’s my thoughts on the Steltian species. Feel free to reblog, comment and give feedback/thoughts, I greatly appreciate those. Feel also free to comment on the structure I made for this post as I do want to improve this.

[soldouthaz]

Do you have any recent fic recs? 🥺 I just finished reading Baby Blue and now I don’t know what to read next. (It was amazing by the way).

hii!!! I'm so happy you liked baby blue! thank you so much for reading and for reaching out! :))) 

I don’t have any specifics on what you like to read, so I'm just going to give you a bit of everything - I hope that’s alright! if you want more you always know where to find me ;) 

--

recently read fics (July 2020) - 

✰ sleeping on our problems (E, 67k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight 

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about. 

✰ tell it like an old song (E, 26k, bL) by @outropeace

where Harry is a bit lost (just like his memories), his best friend is hiding something, the love of his life is gone and love... love is like flowers. 

✰ soaked in the blood of angels (E, 40k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape. 

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago. 

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape. 

✰ like the earth around the sun (E, 23k, bL) by astrangepurplefairy

the one where Harry bursts in on Louis in heat and things only get more complicated from there.

(*personal note* if anyone happens to know if this author has a Tumblr please let me know!)

✰ we both got nothing to hide (E, 43k, bL) by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

✰ move so pretty (you’re all I see) (E, 10k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight

Harry’s pretty content with his life. He loves his job- a veterinarian at a local clinic who’s already built up a name for himself despite his young age. He loves his gorgeous flat with its wide, open space and minimalistic, yet still homey feel. He loves his family who he talks to and visits as much as possible, not bothered by the long hours of driving to Holmes Chapel from London he endures multiple times a month. He loves his friends and his coworkers and his neighbors- especially Allison, the little old lady next door who brings him and Louis cookies on holidays and who always comments on how “strong and handsome you are, Mr. Styles,” everytime he sees her.

And most importantly, he loves Louis, just- maybe in a slightly different way.

✰ maybe, baby (M, 16k, omega!L) by @thoughtsickles​

Louis runs away. Harry finds him.

✰ when tomorrow comes (E, 11k, bL) by @jacaranda-bloom

the one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

✰ in a world alone (E, 50k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.

Because the swan is gone.

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.

-

A Swan Lake AU

re-reads - 

✰ like a siren in the night (E, 24k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

✰ ours are the moments I play in the dark (E, 20k, bL) by @holdingthornsandroses / edensrose

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now. 

✰ pretty please (with sugar on top) (E, 113k, bH) by @angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

✰ dance like warriors on a battlefield (E, 20k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

fics on my list to read soon - 

✰ until (E, 38k, bL) by @allwaswell16

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

(*personal note*- I'd put off reading this until I finished my own cowboy fic so that I wouldn’t subconsciously copy anything but I’m so so excited about this one!) 

✰ smells like omega spirit (NR, 11k, omega!Louis) by @lululawrence

Louis is an omega doing a test run on neutralizers for a class project. Every time he talks to Harry he smells completely different.

Harry is an alpha who can't figure out if he's going crazy or his sense of smell is broken, but all he wants to figure out what Louis' real scent is.

Somehow they figure it out.

✰ ever since I tried your way (E, 25k, bH) by anonymous

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

✰ was in no hurry, had no worries (E, 21k, bL) by @larrywmi / defencelouis 

The year is 1999 and Harry can’t stop dedicating songs to Louis on the radio. Or the one where Harry hits Louis with his car.

✰ the murmur of yearning (E, 93k) by @mediawhorefics 

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late's husband's closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to. Between a meddling distant cousin hellbent on inserting himself in Harry’s life, his wicked and mistrustful mother-in-law and his late husband’s advisors refusing to help or take him seriously, Harry struggles in the fight to keep what he’s earned and make the Estate finally feel like home.

Luckily, he doesn’t stand completely alone and finds himself an unlikely ally in Mr Tomlinson, the elusive Land Stewart who has been taking care of the property in the shadows for years. Louis Tomlinson is caring, patient, and unlike everyone else, he doesn’t seem to think Harry committed a murder.

-- 

as always, please let me know if I tagged anything incorrectly etc. and I hope this helps you a bit!! I hope you’re well and happy reading! :) 

[galvanizedfriend]

KC Bingo 2020: Drabble

Because there were so many winners on the @klaroline-events 2020 Bingo, I'm helping out @itsnotacrimetoloveyou with some of the drabble awards. Hope you guys don’t mind this. You were in for an exclusive Luiza piece and instead you get me! lol I promise I’m doing my best.

This is for @klavscaroline and her GORGEOUS manip with the theme "Rome".

Years of fighting as a gladiator had Niklaus prepared when he is caught with the Emperor’s wife, Caroline, in the Sanitarium after dark.

So I have to clarify that my knowledge of Ancient Rome is extremely limited, and even though I DID consult with Prof. Google for some of the stuff in the drabble (like to find out what a sanitarium was and how Emperors and Empresses were addressed at the time), I'm sure it's all shades of wrong. Hopefully I'm not offending anyone, but just take this as a grain of salt, ok? Ok, then.

Also, I added a TWIST to the plot. lol Sorry? I think?

Your manip was way too gorgeous, @klavscaroline, and I could never match it, but I hope you like this. :) Also, congrats on your full card and THANK YOU for always making such amazing KC content!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Caroline slows down her purposeful steps and smooths out the concern creasing her expression into practiced aloofness before she enters the sanitarium.

To her luck, there's only one patient there, accompanied by the physician who's seeing to his wounds. The other fighter was killed in combat at the arena, his body simply carried out to be ditched in a shallow grave somewhere.

The man has been undressed of his tunic, left in only a loincloth hiding his modesty. A light sheen covers his sun-tanned skin from the exertion, dirty blonde curls matted to his forehead. Normally, these would be sights that would make Caroline's insides twist rather inappropriately. Now, however, all she can focus on is the blood. All over the man's discarded tunic, all over his torso, gushing from a wound on his shoulder.

She swallows back the bile that rises to her mouth, suddenly raked with nausea. When his piercing blue eyes meet hers, her heart gives a violent lurch. Despite her nerves, she lets out a relieved breath. Thank the gods.

"My queen," the physician says, blinking with surprise. It's not common for the Empress to go down to the sanitarium, especially after a fight, especially on her own, and especially when there's a man being treated there. It’s not a very womanly environment, the smell of blood and sweat staining the air.

"The Emperor wants to know what's his best warrior's condition," she announces solemnly with as bland an expression as she can muster.

"Just a superficial wound, my queen," the physician offers. "No damage to the muscle tissue. Provided it doesn't get infected, he should heal well."

"Then what are you doing there, standing? His wounds need cleaning and dressing. Go see to it."

"Y-yes, of course," the man stammers, startling out of inertia. "I will be back in a moment."

The man scurries out of sight, leaving the two of them alone.

Klaus arches his eyebrows at her, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Caroline's pretense calm explodes into nerves. "How can you be so careless?" she snaps.

"Is that the Emperor asking?"

She simply ignores his attempt at a humorous jab and proceeds with the scolding. "You fight like a lunatic, Klaus. One of these days -"

"I will die. And so will every other man on this land," he says with a lightness that does not belong to a man with an open wound on his shoulder. "I can assure you, however, that my death shall not happen at the arena."

She huffs out in indignation. "Your hubris really knows no bounds."

"You say that based on a little scratch?"

"A little scratch!" she parrots, taken with heat as she walks over to him. The physician left a basin with clean water and a towel beside it. Caroline wets the towel and proceeds to clean the wound, being as gentle as possible, even though he hardly deserves it. Not that it makes a difference; Klaus keeps his too-sharp eyes trained on her, his features as bland and agreeable as ever. Doesn't even wince when she rubs the towel against the cut. It looks terrible, but it is definitely not as bad as she'd envisioned as she watched the combat from the stands. "Do you feel no pain?" she asks, a light thrum of fear coloring her voice.

"Of course I feel pain."

"Doesn't that hurt?" She touches the towel across the wound again, most of the blood now gone from his shoulder.

"Yes. But pain is good. Pain reminds us to be afraid," he says, lips curling upwards a tad more, eyes glowing with fire and danger. Oh, Niklaus..., she thinks. Such a force of nature. Caroline had no mercy on her poor heart when she got herself involved with him.

"Pain makes you reckless," she admonishes.

"No. What makes me reckless is the fear of pain. I try to avoid it."

She scoffs. "You could have me fooled." She puts the towel down, her fingers grazing over a pair of scars not far from the new one he'll likely get. Sometimes, at night, while he sleeps, she counts the scars on his back, his arms, his legs... There are so many. She swears he gets a new one every day, growing them as though one who grows hair. Some small and almost imperceptible to less attentive eyes, eyes not used to roam over the plains and valleys of his body with such regard; some so large they bring a chill to her heart, thinking of how close she's come to losing him. "Soon enough there won't be a single unblemished patch of skin on your body."

He holds her hand, presses her palm down against his chest, above his heart. Its strong, steady beats give her a measure of comfort. "Does that concern you?"

Caroline’s lips twist. "What do you think?"

With a swift and agile move, Klaus wraps his arms around her and pulls her up on to the gurney, rolling over so that her body is pressed down underneath his. A man with a gash on his shoulder and dozen other bruises should be howling in pain right now, but Niklaus merely smiles, a large and predatory grin that looks absolutely sinful on his rosy lips.

Still, Caroline's heart drums away in her chest, her eyes flitting nervously to the entrance. "What are you doing?" she grits out. "He'll be back -"

"In a bit," Klaus remarks with all the calm in the world. "He went all the way to the dispensary for his dressing items. The Emperor's best warrior can only be treated with the best. If I get an infection, it will be his head hanging outside the walls."

"Someone could walk in -"

"Yes?" he edges his face closer, his mouth hovering an inch away, chest to chest, hip to hip. "And what would you do?" he whispers, warm breath ghosting her lips.

"I would..." Caroline breathes out, the hand that should be shoving him away sliding up to his hair. "Scream."

She pulls his head down, cutting the final space between them, mashing Klaus' mouth against hers in a plundering kiss. All the worry, all the prayers she made for the gods to protect him, the breath she held as she marched down to the sanitarium after watching him being helped out of the arena - it all bleeds out of her in that kiss. She relishes the taste of him, that urgent and hungry tongue that wrestles her into submission.

Another day she could've lost Klaus; another day he lives to make her heart swell with joy and lust.

"Now would be the moment to scream."

Klaus jumps from the gurney like thunder, grabbing his sword in the process and pointing it straight to the throat of the intruder. Caroline's heart stutters to a stop.

The Emperor stands there, totally unfazed by the sharp sword aimed at his neck, his classic stoic expression unmoved. He merely cocks Klaus a curious eyebrow. "Not contented enough with sleeping with your Emperor's wife, Niklaus?" he asks flatly. "Are you going to commit regicide and fratricide all at once now to add to your list of misdemeanors?"

Klaus puts down his sword. The light wince as he does so does not escape Caroline's eyes. He's in more pain than he's willing to admit, the arrogant bastard.

"You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Elijah," Klaus grumbles.

"And you know better than to straddle my wife in a sanitarium, Niklaus." He turns his pointed gaze to Caroline, then. "I expect this kind of barbaric behavior from him, but you, Caroline? I'm disappointed."

She averts his gaze, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she stands to her feet, fixing her tunic and her hair. "He grabbed me," she says, the excuse weak to her own ears. "I was merely here to check that he hadn't lost a limb or bled to death with his carelessness."

Elijah lets out a weary sigh. "You two are free to conduct your activities however you please, so long as it's away from prying eyes. That was the deal. I have far too many responsibilities to suddenly find myself dragged into a scandal between my wife and my brother." He fixes his dark eyes on his younger brother then, a smile finally breaking onto his handsome face. "I would so hate to have to punish you for your indiscretions, Niklaus."

"You don't seem fazed by the prospect, brother."

"Then don't test me. How's your wound?"

"A scratch."

"It's not just a scratch," Caroline cuts in sharply. "The physician said it's superficial, but it's at risk of infection."

"How much longer do you intend to keep putting your life at risk at the arena like you’re a common gladiator, Niklaus?" Elijah asks.

"How much longer until you find me a real war to fight?"

"I know you were far too restless to sit through our childhood lessons, but let me remind you that the general idea is to keep the Empire at peace."

Klaus snorts. "You and your philosopher's heart."

Caroline feels her blood boil at his derision. "Most men choose to fight so that they can preserve their lives and that of their families," she starts, spitting fire at him. "You, on the other hand, run in the opposite direction. Like a madman without a purpose, you chase mortal danger like that is the sole purpose of your existence. And then you laugh at your brother's concern - at my concern. Like we're idiots for even caring. If you can't grow yourself a philosopher's heart, perhaps you should at the very least grow yourself a conscience."

Klaus stares at her with wide eyes and parted lips, somewhat taken aback, while Elijah's mouth ticks up into a smile, a flicker of humor and warmth in his brown eyes.

"I am ever glad to have wedded such a wise woman. If my appeals fall on deaf ears, perhaps hers might reach you," he says. "I have business to see to. Please, refrain from fornicating out here. And Niklaus..." he waits until his brother has turned back to him. "Get this wound cleaned up and dressed, soon."

With all the grace and poise befitting of the Emperor, Elijah turns around and leaves.

Klaus gives her a near diffident look under his fair lashes, having the decency to appear guilty.

Caroline folds her arms across her chest. "I can't keep watching you challenge men to try and kill you every fortnight."

"I'm a warrior, Caroline. My brother's a diplomat, a ruler. I'm a fighter. He's the brain, I'm the muscle. You knew that when you married him... When you married us."

Caroline puffs out in frustrated derision. "I married him because I had to. Because it was the bargain he stroke with my father. But perhaps I made a mistake, then, when I fell in love with the wrong brother."

"Don't say that," he retorts, genuinely stricken. "You know I'm a jealous man."

"Oh? Are you challenging Elijah next, then?"

"Of course not. If I killed my brother, the Empire would descend into chaos and I would be forced to take his place and murder my way through countless political intrigues, which would leave me with little to no time for the one thing I'm truly passionate about."

"Arenas," she offers with disdain.

"You." Klaus' eyes soften then, no longer wild with raw excitement; something tender and gentle shining through the stormy blue. A look, she knows, only bestowed to her. It tugs directly at her heart, and she feels a glow of affection rising through the anger and the concern. "I'm addicted to you, Caroline. The arenas are a mere distraction. You are the sun of my life."

She bites back on a smile. The same wicked tongue that lashes out at enemies with the more depraved of curses can also worship and conjure the sweetest of promises. "If what you say is true... Then, as your queen, I command you to stay away from the arenas until your wound is fully healed and no longer at risk of reopening. You shall stay with us, at the royal chambers, where you can be cared for by the Emperor's physician. The Emperor demands so."

Klaus smirks lazily. "Well, we wouldn't want to vex the Emperor."

"No, we absolutely wouldn't." She checks that her clothes are all perfectly in place, squaring her shoulders and straightening her posture as she prepares to leave. "Now lie down and wait for the man to return. Then ask your servants to prepare your relocation. It might be awhile before you go back to your own home, so bring whatever you might need. I shall have a warm bath ready for when you arrive."

Klaus walks over to her, taking her hand and lifting it up to his lips. "That's very kind of you, my queen," he says, the thrum of his voice traveling through her like a lightning bolt.

"Yes, I am infinitely generous." She edges closer, narrowing her eyes with malicious intent. "And expect to be rewarded for it."

She waltzes out to the sound of Klaus' rich laughter. Oh, how she loves that sound...

[lingeringscars]

bellamy absolutely was power hungry in season 1 and let the fact that for the first time in his life he was in a position of power go to his head a little bit, regardless of his own personal agendas and an overexaggerated facade. despite this, he does try and be fair, though. 

Bellamy isn’t as capable of looking three steps ahead the way, say, Clarke, is. He sees the immediate and thinks that they have time to figure out the rest ( blowing up the hydrogenator because they have six months and Raven to figure out another way to make water, for example ). Shoutout to Mallory @rewrite34 for connecting this to season 1 with Clarke focusing on getting to Mount Weather to find supplies while Bellamy decides against it. he determined that the most important and vital thing in that moment was to get the delinquents on his side and set up a shelter. this was the way that he could ensure protection for Octavia because if no one is willing to stand against him, they won’t go after her. it’s misguided for a numerous reasons but the most important thing is uniting the delinquents for protection for himself, for o, and deep down for them too because he does connect to them, as someone from a poorer sector whose life was dictated by the council. 

he makes it a point, however, that when people complete their punishment, that is the end of it. there aren’t lasting consequences, and no one should be using their past transgression against them. Atom disobeyed him, and in order to show that he wasn’t to be messed with, Atom had to be punished. It’s been a while, but I think it was Murphy who brought this up later and Bellamy said something to the effect of Atom carried out his punishment and that’s the end of that. 

Bellamy understands how people work, and it is what helps him inspire them and it’s also how he is able to lead them ( even if he doesn’t particularly feel comfortable in a leadership role and is more willing to defer to someone else ie: Clarke, Kane, Pike ). he grew up on stories of gladiators and how the crowd reacted to public executions-- he would be intimately aware of how mob mentality could influence people especially among younger people. I have thought a lot about how he parallels Abby & Jaha in this because Abby, initially, wanted to keep the oxygen levels on the ark a secret because not trusting people not to rise up against them. Bellamy has a similar thought when it comes to the death of Wells -- i recently saw a post that brought up the fact that Bellamy likely knew it was Murphy’s knife from the start. Earlier the previous ep, Bellamy watches Murphy trying to throw the knife, so I am actually willing to believe that this is true. Prior to them pointing out the initials, it makes sense that Bellamy would have put the pieces together and believed that it belonged to Murphy, and I think he would have pulled Murphy aside to discuss it before Clarke acted. 

It fits with a lot of his leadership style to believe that he would-- even though he does act with his heart and make impulsive decisions, something that he has always been good at is talking one-on-one with people about the decisions that they make ( how are we not on the same side on this, talking to Pike throughout s3, in general referring to Clarke before they make decisions or about her decisions ). bellamy did have a very strong suspicion that the delinquents would react to the news about murphy in the exact way that they did, and his hand, to a certain extent, was pushed. in the moment, he pins it on Clarke, and later on Murphy confirms that because Clarke confronting them is what led to confrontation, but I do believe that eventually bellamy would be able to see that it wasn’t any of this and instead just the power of mob mentality. 

we see this come up again in s4. bellamy asks clarke if she thinks the information about Praimfaya is accurate, and then advocates for keeping it secret until they know more. they don’t have information, and getting everyone worked up after coming out the city of light and the atrocities against trikru, their credibility is low and fear is high. until raven can essentially prove that there is a second nuclear wave coming, they should keep it between them so they don’t cause undue chaos. they can figure out the rest later. 

[ganymedesclock]

A lot of the fandom speculates that there are parallels between Zarkon/Alfor and Shiro/Keith, particularly in the friendships these groups of people had/have with each other. I can't remember if you've talked about this before, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on this and what this could mean for the future of Shiro and Keith's friendship?

See I think it’s kinda natural to want to see our paladins in the prior paladins since the former we know better, but… I really hesitate to say that, because I think there’s a fundamental difference to how Shiro and Zarkon relate to the world that isn’t just not the same between them, but diametrically opposed.

Roughly, Shiro and Zarkon both value- discipline, control, self-denial.

Shiro takes these traits as things he should prescribe to himself. I talk very much about Shiro as a leader and the concept of Noblesse Oblige since what it comes back to is Shiro views vested authority, the “crown” of the Black Paladin, first and foremost as a burden and a responsibility. It’s fundamentally how he sees it.

If you are Black Paladin, you have an obligation to be a worthy person. The Black Lion has trusted you, your allies have trusted you, and their trust and loyalty is a debt that must be repaid, with earnest and continuous effort. A king is only as worthy as what he will do for his subjects- and in that sense Shiro tries to live as he thinks his position begets- he’s the guy to jump on a grenade for the team because if you’re in charge you should be that person. And this is his attitude about leadership in general.

People point out it was unlike him in s3e6 to tell Keith to let Sincline shoot him in order to destroy the cargo ship, but the thing is, in s3e6 and s4e1, Shiro’s trying to groom Keith to be in his position. He’s not oblivious to, or not upset at Keith’s pain. The thing is if it was him in that cockpit he’d make that sacrifice, take a direct hit to the Black Lion if he thought it would make it work. He can’t- he’s benched, forced to the sidelines, and because of that he tries to take control of a situation that same way, that he sees as needing that sacrifice- by projecting onto Keith.

Shiro’s only cold and demanding with people he projects himself, or his own perceived role onto. In s3e6 thru s4e1, that’s Keith- just like in s2e10 that’s Slav.

Zarkon is Shiro’s polar opposite, and was from the start. Because the thing in s3e7 that we see, is while Shiro (as he spells out in s1e4 and exemplifies later in s3e5) views leadership as a responsibility and loyalty to that leader to be a choice, that he cannot and will not lead someone who doesn’t want to follow him- Zarkon believes that entire categories of people exist naturally as followers.

Simply put, Zarkon’s classism factors immensely into his view of what it means to be a leader. There are strong people- nobility- that force their way to the top. And there are weak people- everyone else- that are fated from birth to belong to the strong. These categories are non-negotiable and fatalistic. Servants do not become kings, nor kings servants. In s2e8, the way that Zarkon talks to Shiro, in my opinion, makes it very clear that he’s basically incapable of viewing Shiro as anything other than the slave gladiator he first met him as. He characterizes Shiro as weak, when Shiro endured horrifying brutal things for an entire year without breaking.

Zarkon will not make sacrifices for his subordinates. Instead, his perspective is that the natural order is that his subordinates will sacrifice everything for him. He preaches Victory or Death but pulls back in s4e6 rather than risk his personal ship.

How does this come back to their relationships with their respective right hand?

Both of them are very close, but in completely different ways.

While we don’t know how Shiro and Keith met, we can draw some inferences. Keith states Shiro was “the one person who never gave up on me.” We know that before meeting Shiro, before coming to the Garrison, Keith was entirely on his own, and he’s still processing a lot of trauma that he perceives himself as fundamentally unlovable and unwanted.

Keith really doesn’t have a social sphere outside of Shiro. He’s coming to build one with the paladins, but slowly- he’s both clumsy with interpersonal relations and to a degree, utterly terrified of them. He’s starved for closeness and connection to such a degree that part of him can’t really believe it when it’s there.

Consider what I just said about how Shiro views leadership, and to a degree, a lot of his connections- since he’s very much a kind of natural leader who gravitates towards those positions reflexively in times of strife.

Shiro’s a mom friend. He’s a therapist friend. He commits very hard to being a shoulder to cry on, a confidant where it’s needed, a protector, a caretaker. Again, he’s the kind of guy that will jump on a grenade for his team and more than a sense of distant responsibility, it’s rooted in the fact that he just genuinely, deeply, cares. He’s charismatic and connects to people easily with his natural strength of personality but once there, he wants to tend and nurture his connections.

Keith- with his network of loneliness and trauma and isolation, would have latched onto anybody that could help him keep his head above the water. In s2e1 he says “If it weren’t for you my life would’ve been a lot different” which raises the implication he was on the precipice of… something very nasty. (considering this kid is way too comfortable throwing his life away for anything he perceives as a sufficiently worthy cause…)

But Shiro? I think Shiro latched onto Keith as someone who he wanted to take care of. He met Keith, and he saw how much Keith needed… anyone to care, and to Shiro, that simple fact that “someone has to watch out for this kid” immediately in his mind leaps to “I have to do this.”

So there’s something mentorly about their connection, and it’s definitely worth saying that Shiro does think very highly of Keith, he doesn’t just view him as a lost cause. He has a lot of faith in Keith as a person, and sees him as an amazing and talented person.

At the same time, there’s a feeling- especially with the missing year and his own newfound trauma, Shiro doesn’t really realize quite how much he means to Keith. His helping Keith out of that dark period fostered a profound desire to see Keith grow and thrive, but, as far as he’s concerned, there’s no debt here. Keith’s probably come very far since when Shiro met him, but what I don’t think Shiro quite realizes at this point is that Keith is definitely still holding onto Shiro as his comfort person. And from Keith’s perspective- the idea of not having Shiro around is the idea of going right back to the same dark place he was in before meeting Shiro.

He’s not entirely right about that, because we see in s3 that without Shiro there, Keith actually is able to move on- and the degree to which he’s able to even seems to scare him, and he reacts guiltily as if this very prospect of moving on without Shiro is repeating the hurtful things others have done to him onto Shiro.

What it boils down to is Shiro and Keith are extremely close. They’re kinda fire-forged friends because Shiro came into Keith’s life at one of its darkest chapters and helped him up, and since then, Keith has earned great esteem in Shiro’s eyes as an amazing person. If there’s anyone Shiro sees as worthy of being a leader the way that Shiro thinks is called for, it’s Keith- Keith is someone who could carry that weight, and that’s not a shallow compliment.

As far as Zarkon and Alfor…

The first thing about Alfor is he is a hell of a lot more grounded than Keith is and you can see this at a glance. Keith, again, had nobody in his life besides Shiro and his psychological landscape has some pretty deep craters as a result- while Alfor we see was a beloved leader, a family man, surrounded by his adoring wife and advisor, having a good connection with the rest of the team. We see him exploring Gyrgan’s culture, which would even suggest that Alfor may have built separate alliances with the other planets separately from his alliance with Zarkon.

Alfor is much more connected, and a lot more anchored and stable. He’s sure of himself of a way that Keith isn’t, and I think in that sense, even if he has great affection and respect for Zarkon, they’re both more distant, and more independent.

Alfor has his own world Zarkon isn’t really part of and even faced with setbacks, he tries to emphasize his self-sufficiency “I was handling myself.” The ways that we see Alfor hold Zarkon in high esteem is that he respects Zarkon’s military capability, and at least early on, he trusts Zarkon to show him his other connections- taking baby Allura to see him.

But it’s a really good thing that Alfor doesn’t really need Zarkon- because Zarkon and Keith would never have worked as a team. Because while Shiro is very much naturally drawn to people that he sees as needing nurturing or support… Zarkon, conversely, has a very clear tendency to expect his connections to keep up with him to his standards.

And part of this is entirely nonmalicious- Zarkon has no real art for connecting with people. He’s clumsy and awkward. If anything, we see kind of an inversion of Keith and Shiro’s dynamic- Alfor is the charismatic diplomat who’s able to set Zarkon up to meet new people and get him talking to them while Zarkon is the guy that has to excuse himself from the room because whoops beautiful intelligent scientist is on your planet now.

But unfortunately it’s not all benign, since… Zarkon’s social awkwardness combined with his perception that he is entitled to others’ loyalty makes him nastily possessive, and this is shown to be a problem with the paladins of old from the start.

All of the paladins are rulers, but Zarkon fundamentally views them as belonging to him. Blaytz is his to correct and scold when he thinks the others’ behavior doesn’t measure up, and they are not allowed to criticize him, considering how he retaliates even cheerful teasing with a not-so-subtle attack of “But you need me”

And this comes out big time when Alfor and Zarkon start clashing. Zarkon’s perfectly fine turning a cold shoulder on Alfor for years, but when Alfor uses that independence to hold his ground and challenge Zarkon on equal footing, Zarkon starts panicking and yelling about he commands Voltron, Alfor, where are you going, he didn’t give you permission to leave-

Young Zarkon reminds me very much of ATLA’s Azula, in her single most tragic character trait- how she takes, or, doesn’t at all, the loss of her two friends.

Zarkon is needy of other people. If there’s anybody that doesn’t have other people in his life and feels incredibly threatened by that person potentially leaving, it was Zarkon, not Alfor. And frankly… ten thousand years later, Zarkon is still not over the fact that Alfor left him.

And even Zarkon and Keith have major differences. Keith’s fear of being left behind stems from a fear of not being good enough for Shiro, the one person who stuck with him this long. The idea of being rejected by Shiro is horrifying to Keith and he sees even Shiro talking about the idea that he might not make it as horrifying, suggesting Keith’s not worth staying here for. He takes it personally and processes it on a level as his fault.

While Zarkon… I think he has that same root anxiety. It’s hard for him to make connections, and comparatively easy to lose them. I’d suspect Zarkon has a pretty troubled past of his own when it comes to connecting to people or not, especially if his whole attitude of “don’t fraternize with those beneath you” came from his parents- like Keith, I think that he comes from a very lonely background. No wonder Alfor was so pleased to see Zarkon happily married, and no wonder Zarkon latched onto Honerva with the intensity he did.

The problem with Zarkon that turns this from a sympathetic struggle to a devastating character flaw is… Zarkon refuses to accept that any failure of a relationship is his fault. He’s decided to make his loneliness his partners’ problem. If someone leaves him and he’s hurt, his response is- how dare you, that’s not how this works, you’re not allowed to leave, you- get back here right now, before he gets mad.

When Alfor turns his back on Zarkon, at a point when Zarkon’s also losing Honerva to something else- Zarkon yells, orders, threatens, and none of that works. And that’s when he panics. This is when we see Zarkon in the past at his most vulnerable and scared.

But he’s a leader. He’s not allowed to not be in control. He’s gonna take control of this situation. What does he have to do? Well… he could always lie. Alfor’s a bleeding heart. Pretend he’s changed his mind, say what they want to hear, and he has his team back, and he can get his wife back, and everything will be right where it should be.

Shiro would never do that. Keith would never do that. What happened between Alfor and Zarkon is a product of very different constructions of their mind that Shiro and Keith really don’t have. If anything, I’d think scenes of Keith holding his ground and challenging Shiro on things are heartening signs. It tells us that Keith is starting to have more of a foundation that’s not just Shiro, and more of a sense of certainty, and I think he kind of had to build that in s3 and s4. That’s the good thing that came out of the entire Shiro-gets-kidnapped-a-second-time debacle; Keith’s foundations got a particular, aggressive boost.

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Draftbook Drabble 40 (Follow up to #7- Canon Corrector AU, Defiance, Olivia, Mellie, mentions of Fitz, FTGIV and Karen, Cyrus, Verna, Hollis, strong happy Olitz, common sense and karma prevails, What the actual fuck is a Mellivia? Seriously, what?)

Words from the Gladiator in a Hoodie: All right, so with the whole “Mellivia” “friendship” and "feminist alliance means forgiveness no matter what because all men are the Devil so we ruined our own lives and blame all men, especially Fitz for our misery" idea that SR has been shoving down our throats and up our asses since 5B, I would like to write a fic where the truth about them is fully in play. 

If there was any true common sense left in SCANDAL’s writer’s room, not only would Liv & Fitz actually be happy solo and as Olitz, OLIVIA AND MELLIE WOULD NEVER, EVER, EV-ER BE BESTIES. They would be civil for the sake of the kids and for the sake of Fitz (at least Liv would be) but actual besties? Hell, no! 

Who the fuck actually becomes besties with a person who helped demean you and took advantage of you? What idiocy made that possible? Well, the almighty POWER and “feminism” made it possible and this...this fic and any other fic I write nowadays is a protest. 

More chapter updates are on the way and I’ll return to one of the other D.D. plot lines (most likely the first Trail AU I started in D.D. #1) soon. Enjoy the latest. Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills,  ~*Trumpetnista*~

Disclaimer: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

Excerpt from Draftbook Drabble #7...

"…this was the dramatic scene two nights ago outside the Martin Plaza Hotel where the Grant Campaign had set up base. Millicent 'Mellie' Grant nee Vaughn, Cyrus Beene, Verna Thornton, and well known oil tycoon Hollis Doyle were all arrested under charges of conspiracy to commit voter fraud in Defiance County, Ohio…"

"Cytron Electronics has removed the machines…complete redesign…"

"…Olivia Pope…infiltrated the ranks of the DC4 Conspirators and turned over approximately 185 hours of audio. Individual conversations, recorded phone conversations, and roundtable meeting were given to the AUSA, along with a 2 hour and 45 minute videotaped deposition…"

"…Governor Grant filing for divorce and full custody of the children…"

"…modern day Watergate…the Governor himself was not involved but he has issued a statement saying that he will be turning the position of California Governor over to Lt. Governor Andrew Nichols and that he is throwing his support to Sally Langston to represent the Republican Party against Samuel Reston in the upcoming election in November. He also implied that we may be seeing him on the Trail again in 2016…"

"…but why, though? Other than the illegality, why? Why would Olivia Pope put herself in danger of prosecution or being silenced by the others to get the footage? What was her personal motivation? What did she get out of it and just where in the world is Olivia Pope, now?"

"…disgraceful…utterly disgraceful…a slap in the face to all American voters…they should all rot..."

"…got a sista digging up the dirt and shuttin' all of those crooked bitches down…I love it! Go 'head, girl…"

"Mellie got 8 years. Hollis and Cyrus got 15. Verna also got 8 but apparently, the old broad's chock full of terminal lung and bone cancer so they'll probably put her in a hospice someplace after a year, if she makes it to a year, anyway."

"All's well that ends well. They're where they belong..."

"...you say that we betrayed Fitz and we did but you…I still can't believe you, Liv! You set all of us up! You stabbed us in the back, stabbed me in the back!"

"I was just following your life lesson, Cyrus. You drilled it into our heads in class that loyalty and ambition don't mix. You always said that it's good to have friends, even close friends but when the cards are down, you have to be prepared to cope with stabs to the back and you also have to be ready and willing with a knife of your own at all times. The last time we spoke, you said that we were with Fitz's camp to carve Judases and protect him. That's exactly what I did and I will not apologize to anyone for it, not even God. You, Hollis, Mellie, and Verna put yourselves in prison. You're sitting in front of me in that ugly orange jumpsuit, chained to this table because of you, not me..."

"...you're a whore! You were his mistress, his dirty little whore!"

"But unlike you, I'm not a convicted felon. Unlike you, I can leave here at any time and please get off of your high horse, you hypocritical cow. You didn't have a problem at all with anything going on between Fitz and I until you realized that the position your Daddy paid your way into was in serious jeopardy. I don't understand you. You had a good man. You had one of the best men that you could ever have and all you had to do to keep him was love him for him. That's all. And do you want to know what pisses me off about you the most? You could've been anything. Even if you and Fitz had never met, you could've been someone else's First Lady and a good one. You could've been a Representative, a Senator, a Chief of Staff…hell, with the right spin, you could've even been the first female President of the United States! You could've been anything! You should've been anything! You had opportunities, privilege, and potential all your life that many women would kill for just to have for a day! You could've done anything with your life but instead, you willingly got into a political merger, lowered yourself into being into an arranged, loveless marriage and for what? This? Was it worth it, Mellie? Was it? Answer me. You asked for this visit and you never shut up on The Trail. Don't be quiet now that you're the Belle of the Ball and Chain…"

"…you fucking bitch! How dare you?!"

"I dare because you let me, just like you let me take your husband. And I take bitch as a compliment nowadays. It's a badge of honor and you were right. I was bluffing just now. I know Karen is Fitz's but the Public…a rumor can get very out of hand very quickly and if you can conspire to steal a National Election, it's not too big a leap for people to think that you would screw his blood brother since Pre-K and pass the lovechild off as his to keep him under your thumb. Yes, I slept with Fitz while he was still married. I also fell in love with him and he loves me back. If that makes me a whore, if that makes him a whore, then so be it. We'll be happy and free whores together. But, Mellie? She who lives in glass houses should not be naked on her knees…and she who lives 24/7/365 in a 12x8 concrete cell should be a good little girl and pay her debt to society quietly so that she can have a shot of having a nice future far, far away from her ex-husband and the woman who really loves him after she gets out..."

"You did this when Cyrus got out. You picked him up."

"I did."

"And you went to Verna and Hollis' funerals."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I don't like leaving things unfinished."

"You say that but your ring finger still looks pretty unfinished, don't you think?"

"Fitz doesn't want to get married again until he's absolutely sure that he'd be a good husband. I have you to thank for that. There's a diner coming up. Do you want me to stop?"

"...sure."

After 8 years behind bars, Mellie Vaughn was a shadow of the woman Olivia Pope had met on the 2007 Trail. She had lost about 15 pounds, her skin was a near ghostly pale, and there were dark circles under the woman's bloodshot blue eyes. Instead of the designer ensembles she had become known for before being arrested, she was in a pair of jeans and a large black sweatshirt that was large enough to fit her ex-husband easily, along with prison issue sandals. Her dark mahogany hair was streaked with gray, thrown into a messy ponytail and she had on a pair of white horn-rimmed glasses. All of her worldly possessions fit in 2 bags and a shoebox, a very far cry from the luxurious lifestyle she had enjoyed as a politician's wife.

The biggest difference was in the other woman's body language.

Olivia would've never associated the word 'meek' with Mellie before everything went down but today? That was the best word to describe her, other than just bone tired. Even the venom she spat was weighed down with exhaustion. Getting to the diner, they settled into a back booth and soon, Mellie was devouring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Olivia stuck with a mug of chamomile tea, having eaten before leaving for the prison. It was a very early Saturday morning, barely past dawn so the diner was basically deserted.

Hopefully, that wouldn't change before they got back on the road.

The last thing either one wanted to deal with was the Media...

"How...how are the kids?"

"They're doing just fine. Gerry's going into his 3rd year at Davis, 1st in his class. He's right on track to be a veterinarian. He wants to open his own practice, either in Santa Barbara or in Rutland to be closer to me and Fitz. He's not sure yet. "

"He's always loved animals. Him and Karen...how...how's she doing?"

"She's a Junior, 1st in her class. Harvard already sent her some information but she wants to go to Julliard. She's deep into musical theater, pit orchestra, choreography. She either wants to join a troupe or become a conductor. She'll probably conduct. She was a drum major for marching band this season and she loved it so...we'll see."

"...and Fitz? How's he doing?"

"He's still Professor G at Georgetown. He just got tenure and he'll have a spot on the director's board once winter semester starts up."

"He's happy?"

"Yeah."

"...good...I'm glad that he's happy."

"Are you really?"

Mellie chuckled bitterly and replied, "I don't have a choice but to be happy for him. It's not like I didn't do this to myself. Sure, you helped but...I was wrong. All of us were wrong. Fitz had what it took. We didn't need Defiance. Even if he lost, after 4 years of Langston's nonsense, he would've been seen as America's salvation and swept the 2012 Race. Reston...Reston wouldn't have gotten 2 Terms or even one."

"I tried to tell you guys."

"You did...the Great Olivia Pope knows all...god, we were so fucking stupid. All we had to do was just let things be but no... well, karma's a bitch, huh? I'm an ex-con and considered to be one of the biggest traitors to democracy. You and Fitz are one of America's great love stories. Verna's dead from like 10 types of cancer. Hollis made himself into a lovely chandelier before he did a year behind bars and last I heard, Cyrus is a... goat farmer in Oklahoma?"

"Alpacas and donkeys, actually. He's really good at it."

"Well, he's always been an ass."

Olivia laughed and Mellie's smile was genuine, sad but genuine.

"Daddy says that I can come home once I get the tether off of me after the halfway house . I'm surprised that he didn't disown me. Everyone kept telling him to but he didn't. He wrote me letters, sent me pictures, and made sure that my commissary account was always full."

"That's a good thing. You shouldn't be all alone."

"I shouldn't?"

"No, you really shouldn't."

"...this would be so much easier if you'd just be a bitch to me."

"Easier, maybe but not right. Regardless of the history between us, inside and outside of Fitz, you are Gerry and Karen's mom and they still love you very much, even though they're hurt. Being a bitch to you without just provocation would hurt them and Fitz and that is the last thing that I want to do."

"He's very lucky to have you."

"He is and I'm very lucky to have him."

"At least something good came from all of this shit...do they have fried chicken here? I have been jonesing for some fried chicken."

"Yeah, you want to split some?"

"...that would be great."

[worldcakecakecake]

Throwing Cellphones

                            Feliciano gets himself a sugar daddy

          Next update will be available for Monday, April 17th

                                                    Chapter 12

That night, Feliciano made them a ricotta and arugula roulade, little pizzas they could take in one bite, Tuscan bean soup, polenta, and for dessert, a coffee semifreddo for the adults and pistachio for Luzia. For most of them, it had been a long time since they had eaten a home cooked meal like this, one that brought them smiles, festive conversation and loud hollers of laughter that even Ludwig joined into.

“-It was only a small cut, yet Gilbert here still decided to lay bed-ridden, going on with wills and last words. It was only from a tree branch! Luzia once fell down a hill and she still insisted she could go to school fine,” Elizabeta told, annoyed, yet with laughter. If even the tears, the pain, the simplicity of those memories, they were still moments with her family she held dear and reminded her of their whimsicality and strength.

“I didn’t exaggerate that bad!”

“Gilbert, you called me in the middle of the night to make sure I took care of Elizabeta and Luzia for if ‘you never woke up the next morning’,” Ludwig added.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes, “if that were the case, you should know, dear, that Luzia and I can take good care of ourselves.”

“Still, I wanted to make sure you two have someone extra to watch over you if anything.”

“Relax, Gilbert, you’re here and fine, we shouldn’t waste our time together on such bleak subjects- Feliciano dear, you don’t have to do this!” Yekaterina interrupted Feliciano, who was beginning to pick up the plates in the table to clean in the kitchen.

“They’re so many, I should really start with it to not keep everyone up so late. I cooked all of this, it should only be fair.”

“Definitely not! Sit back on your chair! Ludwig and I will deal with the cleaning later,” Elizabeta commanded and assured, and Ludwig nodded gladly.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, now sit and tell us more about yourself!” The insisting in her voice was enough to make Feliciano nervous, fidgeting where he placed his hands.

“What can I say? I already told you guys about how it was like studying in Florence."

“I’m curious about your family. Tell us more about them,” Yekaterina wondered.

“I only have my grandfather and my brother. Nonno is retired, but he still shows up at excavations and museum exhibitions insisting to help and offer his knowledge however he can.”

“You did mention once he was a Roman history fanatic.”

“Has a masters on it and everything. I grew up hearing all kinds of stories about emperors, soldiers, gladiators and gods.”

“His home shows it enough. He has ancient Roman flags, scrolls and paintings hanging in the walls, as well as busts and statues he got off the black market. He managed to get one that used to belong to…who was it again?” Ludwig questioned.

“Are you talking about the one he has in the living room? Right by the stair case?”

“Yes, that very one!”

“We think it used to belong to Tiberius, but he’s still researching that well, but I really hope so, it would be fascinating to have something like that in the house.” The smile Feliciano held was sincere, loving to these kinds of topics.

“That’s amazing, but Ludwig…how did you know about that statue in his grandfather’s home?” Yekaterina questioned, and that’s when both froze realizing their mistake. It was the very question Gilbert and Luzia held, heavy stares on Ludwig waiting for him to explain, while Elizabeta only smirked upon her drinking glass.

“Um…” Ludwig searched for an excuse on the surface of the table, refusing to look them all in the eye and reveal himself.

Feliciano fidgeted, tapping his fingers on the table, biting his lip, hoping whatever he said next could be enough. “My grandfather is helping the company choose a good location for the base. He doesn’t want it placed in any important grounds that might hold ancient artifacts,” he said hoping it could be a good start.

“They were consulting for grounds?” Yekaterina asked, not remembering reading something like that in any of the reports.

“Yes…long before. Augusto just didn’t want to be written down, said he didn’t want anything to do with it. He let me stay in his home the first few times I went, which is how I met Feliciano.” They nodded impressed, believing it, but it only made Elizabeta’s grin stronger, having to hold a napkin to her mouth so the rest wouldn’t see.

“I assume you were interested in the internship after your grandfather talked and gave that help, not to mention having Ludwig there."

“Yes…Ludwig was very nice to give me a chance. I still thank him dearly for it.”

“He is such a sweetheart, isn’t he?” Yekaterina rubbed his hands dearly and Ludwig accepted it with the same caresses, smiling, hoping she wouldn’t feel or notice his slight trembling. Feliciano, having seen this, gripped harshly on the table, having to force himself to settle looking at some of the empty glasses, offering to pour more wine.

“And you have a brother, was he given this chance as well?”

“He’s not interested. He’s more into the culinary world, dreams of opening his own restaurant with his boyfriend, but for now he settles taking waiter jobs and cooking at small pizzerias. I learned a lot of recipes from him. He’s more talented than any of you could imagine. If you ever visit my home, I might convince him to come and cook as well. You have to try his spinach and ricotta pasta, and his pizzas, and eggplant parmigiana, and lamb, and macaroons.” He made everyone drool with the image, earning groans and roll of eyes.

“Feli! You stuffed us enough! I shouldn’t be thinking about having more food,” Gilbert complained.

Feliciano laughed. "Sorry about that.”

“What about your parents? I haven’t heard you mention them.”

Silence settled heavily after the cough and clanging Elizabeta and Ludwig did, being the ones who knew, hoping it could distract enough to forget, knowing how the topic affected Feliciano, especially when it was Ludwig’s wife who was asking this. Feliciano knew she meant no wrong, she just didn’t know, and with a tired sigh, he decided to tell her.

“I rather not meet my father ever again. He could be feasting in whatever part of the world he’s in right now indifferent to the two sons he left behind. I don’t care, I will never forgive what he did.” He hoped she understood enough, his case wasn’t the only one and it was pretty common to hear. “My mother, she died when I was still a child…from depression.” He didn’t want to give more detail, it still hurt, it still gave him a strong pang that even gave the rest of the table an eerie silence.

“I…I’m so sorry, Feliciano, I…I shouldn’t have-” Yekaterina tried to apologize, wanting to reach a hand and offer him any kind of comfort, but he was too far away from her seating.

“It’s all right, it’s like I always say…”

“She’s in heaven singing with the angels,” Ludwig filled in, and both smiled to each other, one that could reveal, that showed too much love. They quickly had to shut it before anyone noticed.

Feliciano nodded, his smile bringing back the cheery atmosphere of the table. "And that is enough for me.”

Surprisingly nobody questioned how Ludwig knew, they just assumed he heard it enough after spending time with him at Augusto’s home.

“That’s nice then…how about a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?…I don’t judge.” Gilbert as noisy as ever, smirking quite curious.

Elizabeta wanted to stop him, but at the same time, she was curious as to what Feliciano would say, especially when this secret lover of his was sitting right at the table, frigid and even coughing as he tried to hide his nervousness, afraid that the answer could be seen clearly on him.

“Ooohhh, I want to hear this.” Yekaterina placed her elbows on the table, trying to lean close, begging to know.

“I..um…I don’t think I should-”

“Please! You have to tell us!” Luzia joined along.

“We’re all good friends here,” Gilbert tried to ease as well.

Elizabeta wanted to laugh, but ever so playful, she only tried to keep herself as still as she could and uttered: “Go on!”

Oh, she was really enjoying this. Feliciano couldn’t help the glare he sent her, but she only shrugged, it didn’t do anything to her and the table still awaited for Feliciano to spill it all. With a heavy sigh, Feliciano decided to start, trying not to detail, trying not to look into his direction, hoping nobody would guess, that nobody would know that the person of his heavy undying affections was right there beside them.

“Yes I um… have a boyfriend.” No judging eyes, no sneers, no insults, they remained the same, wishing for only more words about this man.

Feliciano liked this trusting air that didn’t mind his sexuality.

“He’s…gorgeous, tall and really strong…but he’s so gentle and kind with me. He’s a sweetheart and his own charm is just enough to have me soaring until all I can think is about him and the way he makes me fall harder each and every day.” There was such a dream-like tone in his voice, obvious to all that he was lost to his memory, to whatever place they could be alone together to share the heights of their love. They each breathed, in that contagious romance, Ludwig trying so hard not to smile so big and cover whatever traces of strong red were growing.

“Where’s he from?” Yekaterina wondered.

“What’s his name?” Luzia exploded to know.

“I…rather not say.” Oh but how much he really wanted to, how much he wanted to tell it to the world, but the circumstances were not the appropriate ones.

“Is he rich at least?” Gilbert wondered as well.

“I was going to ask that myself. You’re always posting all these expensive brands in your Instagram, and then the places you travel to and stay in, I doubt you could afford them yourself in your position,” Yekaterina questioned and Feliciano realized that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to give her his accounts to follow.

“Well…yeah, he works at a large company,”

“What kind?”

Why were they so insisting upon this?

“Um…uh…” he looked around the table hoping for ideas, his eyes falling upon the pieces of sausages he used for the small pizzas. “He owns a salami company.”

Gilbert found it hilarious, the kind of outbursts that had the others laughing, even Elizabeta who couldn’t even drink with the hard chuckles she gave. Only Ludwig remained as still, sending Feliciano a glare when everyone else was too busy laughing.

Really? Was this the best you could come up with? He seemed to tell Feliciano, who only shrugged and smiled, joining along in the laughter.

“I can’t imagine the dirty jokes that go on between you two,” Gilbert uttered after he had relaxed.

“Plenty and dirty all right.” And he winked to Ludwig’s side, who panicked, afraid someone had noticed.

“And this is where I interrupt and remind you all that we have Luzia in the table,” Elizabeta interjected, beginning to pick up plates. “Come on, Ludwig, help me in the kitchen.”

While they dealt with the cleaning, the rest stood and headed to the living room to continue on other topics, at one point Feliciano having to explain why it was that he didn’t post pictures about his boyfriend in his Instagram.

“He doesn’t want that much attention,” he excused and luckily they didn’t question any more after it.

While it was fun to be with them, Feliciano kept sending curious gazes to the kitchen door, wishing for Ludwig, hoping for a chance to see him, to do something with him before they had to leave for the night.

Bless that they had Elizabeta.

“Feliciano, I need to check on something, do you mind helping Ludwig with the dishes?”

Whatever chance was enough. He excused himself and headed over, Elizabeta leaving the door open for him.

“I’ll watch the door for you,” she whispered lastly before she headed out.

There was such a stillness in the kitchen, a dimming light, contrasting with the glowing and the lively conversation in the other room. Ludwig continued with his dish cleaning unaware, back to Feliciano, the running water and the clangs enough to hide any other sound of Feliciano’s slow approach. Ludwig was currently working on the large pot Feliciano used for the soup, holding it by the handles, ready, Feliciano then joining his own hands to touch.

“I’ll take care of that," he smiled, easily taking it away from him.

Ludwig tended to lose himself in any grip the moment he stared at Feliciano, this close, alone, stilled to nothing while Feliciano began his cleaning, smirking up to him from time to time.

“Can I-Can I still help you?” Ludwig wondered.

“Of course you can.” Feliciano handed him the tray he used for the roulade baking and Ludwig gladly continued as he was.

As they went through different plates and utensils, Feliciano kept teasing Ludwig by pushing him with his hips, and Ludwig answered by doing the same. They would throw bubbles at each other, landing on their noses, which they nuzzled away. Sometimes they would reach for the same thing and they let themselves last in that hand holding, until a sudden sound from outside the kitchen pulled them away, afraid that someone would come in even with Elizabeta watching.

Once done and with their hands dried, like magnets they came into their arms, embracing and letting their hands reach faces, necks, hips, expanses of back and shoulders. They stared into their eyes, going on with how much they missed each other, plotting ways they could escape through the back and loose themselves in the city, at night with less eyes to watch them. They swayed, they neared, kissing, igniting, making this small moment and space as much theirs as they could.

There was a slight knock, Elizabeta peeking in. “Ludwig, Yekaterina wants to talk to you, it’s about leaving, she still has some work to do for tomorrow,” she whispered, hoping it wasn’t destroying their moment.

She saw, even with their hands wrapped strongly around each other, how Ludwig departed with a broken sigh, his near breaths to Feliciano’s lips hoping he could pull them back to his, hoping they didn’t have to stop.

“I’ll…be right out.”

Elizabeta felt big fault for the dread in his voice, one that settled in the air around them. She nodded and closed the door, leaving them once again.

They shared in one last longing kiss, gripping harshly to try and get a strong feeling to last them this night without each other if even being in the same city.

Ludwig departed, raising one of Feliciano’s hands to his lips, laying a long kiss, skin and fingers caressing, extending their moment. It was something he barely did, but it was so sweet, a show of adoration that Feliciano couldn’t help but want it to be shown to the rest of his body. Suddenly he let go, in one sudden burst of laughter from the outside, dashing back towards it, leaving Feliciano behind holding dearly to the hand that he had kissed so feverishly, putting them to his lips, his cheek, his neck, still wishing he had more.

  Feliciano didn’t had to go to the gallery till the end of the week, which meant he had some free days to just lay around and do nothing, but Elizabeta and Luzia would not permit that. The next three days they used to explore the city that Feliciano really hadn’t had the chance to see the last time he came (Being destroyed by finding out Ludwig was getting married and wanting to leave as soon as possible). They visited squares, churches, city hall, clock towers, restaurants (they managed dinner at an Italian place one night), palaces, residencies, and of course, shops. He took his pictures, some having Elizabeta and Luzia joining, creating countless of hits in his Instagram.

After this real excursion, Munich made its way to Feliciano’s heart and he just couldn’t spend it being closed up in Gilbert and Elizabeta’s home when he wanted to spend it meeting more, dreaming of what it would be like to live here with Ludwig.

He reached his fourth day and still he hadn’t had a chance to see his lover since they day he arrived, work and mostly not trying to create suspicion. But on this day he wanted to take his chance, he wanted to do something, and as he headed out with Elizabeta visiting new places, he concocted and plotted, but nothing seemed really definite.

Yekaterina surprisingly joined them that day, watching shows, visiting other galleries, as well as a park where they chattered and admired the last of the green and flourishing colors. Autumn would soon approach and leave things differently.

They stopped for lunch at an outdoor café, sharing in drinks and chats about clothes and castles. It really was fun to spend time with Yekaterina, but it made it rather heavy to think about ways to see Ludwig secretly and it only worsened when she received her next call.

“Hello,” she answered very sweetly, pushing some strands of her short hair behind her ear, a clear sign of loving intentions for the person on the other side. She nodded, she answered with simple remarks, managing even pet names.

It was Ludwig, both Elizabeta and Feliciano knew, causing a breaking, a harden grip on the hand on his thigh, maintaining his eyes elsewhere, hoping to be distracted by the design of a building and not break down and cry right there. But no matter, he couldn’t avoid the way she laughed, her endearments, the utter devotion in her tone, and he didn’t have to look at her to know she had a glow in her eyes and an enchanted smile. She couldn’t act this way alone, Ludwig must be telling her something, sweet romancing words that should be only for him. He didn’t care if she was his wife, that she should be receiving this as justly as any lover should, but after the many times Ludwig told him he really didn’t harbor feelings like that for her and that she herself was showing the same signs, this felt like a harsh betrayal, a stabbing of reality, a breaking of dreams that he knew would never be his. It was becoming harder and harder to hold himself, biting harshly his lips to not dare let tears fall down his cheeks.

She finally hung up, with a clear blush full of emotion.

“Who was that?” Elizabeta questioned with a smirk, recognizing the signs, although she knew…although it would break Feliciano, but she wanted to set a connection of trust between them and hopefully…she would admit it was something else.

“Oh…” she faltered for a moment, but quickly admitted, “it was Ludwig, he wants to have dinner at a restaurant outside the city tonight.”

A harsher grip, a bitter bite, holding himself from shouting ‘lying cheater’.

“Ooohhh, dinner outside the city? Ludwig being his rare romantic self,” Elizabeta teased.

“He has his moments, and well,” she blushed, playing with her hair, not sure if she should say this. Elizabeta leaned hoping to hear it, Feliciano close to dashing off away from this. “We’re staying at a beautiful village home for the night, he reserved it just for us."

“Aaahh, there’s more to the night it seems,” Elizabeta winked and Feliciano’s mind came up with new curse words he couldn’t wait to shout.

“Yes, I can’t wait,” she bounced with the excitement, beginning to pick her things. “I’m sorry, but Ludwig and I have to start preparing, I have to head back home instantly. I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I hope we can do something before you leave, Feliciano," she smiled in expectations, while it was becoming harder for Feliciano to try and reply with one just as content.

“Have…fun,” he still wished, slumped and greyed, something that Yekaterina did not fail to miss.

“Feliciano…are you all right?” She asked with clear concern.

“I-I am, just… a little queasy from the drink.”

“I thought you ordered it without alcohol?”

“Ma-maybe it was the fruits."

“Be careful! Elizabeta, please give him something when you get home." 

“I will.”

Yekaterina gave her usual goodbyes and ran off with a small skip in her step, down the streets alone with a goal to her home, to her husband, to the beloved that in the end was not meant to be Feliciano’s.

Elizabeta saw clearly his dejection, the collapse in his figure, the still grip on the mantel of the table. “Feliciano…I’m so sorry,” she tried to comfort, moving close a hand to lay on his shoulder.

“Let’s just go,” he suddenly commanded, the breaking starting in his voice. He refused to look at her, picking his things, laying the money on the table and moving on ahead without even waiting.

“Feliciano! Feliciano!” She kept calling to make him stop, but he still went on, remaining his gaze forward, refusing to pay attention to anything, the calls, the people he occasionally bumped into, the rushing cars and the crossing signals. If he dared move his look, to Elizabeta, to the sky, to anything that might spark a reminder, he would break down, right in the streets, to a mess, to an embarrassment that Elizabeta would even have to carry. He miraculously made it to the home, and as soon as Elizabeta closed the door behind them, as Feliciano made sure that Gilbert and Luzia were not in the house, he threw his bags harshly to the floor, finally letting the storm of his tears fall down his face.

“Sodding fucker!” Feliciano started with a shout. Elizabeta was so surprised that she let herself be halted, all her own things falling to the floor with a loud thud. “Pig! Tramp! No wonder he hasn’t been able to see me the last four days! He’s been busy planning that getaway with her! With me here! When we should be seeing each other instead! But no! In the end, he realized the mistake he made!” He continued to shout, somehow managing full words with the tears, the whimpering, even the shaking as he paced the room.

“Feliciano, Feliciano, calm down, something is off, I really don’t think he would suddenly make something for her. He hasn’t done anything like that the entire time they’ve been together,” Elizabeta tried to calm him down, coming close, hoping for a chance to lay her hands on him, trying to stop his pace, to make him think, to quench this sudden rare anger.

“He never had anything for me! He was just confused! And now he realized and he’s going to just toss me aside like garbage!” He kicked a near wall, making a framed canvas shake.

He had sudden flashbacks of his last breakup, for that was the feeling, that’s how used he felt, and to feel it again, with someone he thought he could trust to never use him like that, someone he truly thought could be different, perhaps the one he had been waiting for, the love of his life.

“Feliciano, no!” Elizabeta began to take a more scolding tone, her hold on him becoming harsher. “He loves you, he truly loves you, he wouldn’t do something like that, especially with you here in Munich. Why don’t you call him and ask him yourself, maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.” Feliciano refused to believe how that could be possible. Even still, with his continuing anguish, tears pouring, he picked his phone, searching the number, wishing he could destroy the hearts he had around his name in his contact list. He instantly set the call, his fury like blazing fire that Elizabeta was starting to fear, moving away, giving him the chance to speak as he wanted.

“Liebling,” Ludwig dared answer so sweetly. It almost felt like he was mocking him.

“Sei uno sporco maiale e un pezzo di merda, Ludwig Beilschmidt!” He shouted to him, his Italian taking over after he was too mad and broken to think in another language. He continued with harsh venom, in sparks of fire, with the ever passion that was expected of his maternal language. “Schifoso bugiardo! Maniaco, stronzo, bastardo, cretino! Come hai potuto? Torna a scopare quella troia e spero che tu bruci all'inferno.” His voice grew harsher with each word, a swing, a punch, a hit that stilled Ludwig more into paralysis, eyes widened, not believing the words that were coming out from this sweet and sugared mouth he had gotten to know well. Elizabeta stood just as astonished, having to look around to realize she was not in some weird dream, that she actually heard Feliciano utter all those words.

“Um…excuse me, but do I have the right number? Lovino, is this you?” Ludwig questioned.

“It’s me, Ludwig!”

“Feliciano? Okay, my Italian is not that good, but I’ve been enough times with your brother to understand half of that. What’s going on? Did something happen?” He tried not to panic, ready to deal with the situation as calmly and orderly as he could and should.

“Stop pretending! I know what you’re planning, I know what you’re going to do tonight!” His tears became harsher, he gripped harder on the phone, Elizabeta worried that he would throw it to pieces against the wall.

“Feliciano…I really don’t understand, please explain this better.” Ludwig tossed aside any work he had, standing, pacing and not standing to hear those tears, especially after he was the one who caused them…somehow.

“I was there, Ludwig! I was there when you called her! I heard how you made her laugh, I saw her turn red, I saw her glow and how she alighted with your promise! You can’t hide something like that from me! How can you do this after you said you only loved me! After you said you really had nothing with her! How could you lie to both of us like this you dirty piece of-”

“Feliciano!” Ludwig had no other choice then to shout, halting Feliciano before he finished this sudden firing rampage. It worked like a spell, bringing an abrupt silence for Ludwig to think, for both to take their breaths and come forward to this clearly.

“Are you talking about Yekaterina?” He reciprocated Feliciano’s blaze with his own commanding inferno, which left Feliciano just as astounded as Ludwig had been with his sudden harsh cursing, rage and tears.

“Ye-yes,” he answered with clear shake.

“Feliciano…I really don’t know what you’re talking about then. I haven’t called her all day.”

“But-but, she said it was you, and that, you were planning this…romantic getaway outside the city,”

“…What? No! I have no such time for that! The company has been really busy with a stack of experiments our Brazilian base has asked for. It’s a miracle I’ve somehow managed to eat.” He picked up some papers being reminded of the still great amounts of conclusions, numbers and elements he had to read through before he could make one part of the reports.

“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t Yekaterina be as busy?”

“Her labs already finished their job. She asked for some days off, something about going to visit her sister outside the city.”

“Her sister?”

“Yeah, she’s leaving tonight to see her…not exactly a romantic getaway, I really don’t get how you got this idea that I was the one who called her.” As Ludwig read on, Feliciano was hit with realization, brightening away any doubt, making conclusions easier, granting him breaths, a cheerful color and angelic kindness that everyone recognized him as.

“So…you’re not going anywhere tonight?”

“No, Yekaterina is though. She won’t be home for the next two days,”

“Oh…” Ludwig knew that tone, the one in which Feliciano was twirling a finger in one of his many curls, smiling with ideas, ones that usually ended with Ludwig having unforgettable days and nights. The heat of his fury disappeared just like that, Feliciano filling his head with all kinds of dreams and expectations. Sure, Ludwig questioned it slightly, but when he could just hear him smiling, surely glowing, he forgot it all, joining in the same daze they suddenly grew together.

“So um…” he tapped his fingers on his desk, suddenly nervous when a chance was finally there and they should be quick to grasp it. “Do you want to…um…”

“Do something?” Feliciano weakly suggested.

“Yes, um…” there had to be something romantic they could do in the city without revealing the truth of their relationship.

Ludwig kept on stuttering and becoming nervous, one Feliciano found so adorable he giggled with his ever pureness.

“How about I leave it a surprise?” Feliciano teased, taking control of the situation as easy as that.

“What? But um…sure, yeah, surprise, okay.” He was kind of disappointed that he didn’t take control, but if Feliciano was the one with the idea, he should just comply and see what it could be.

“So…when and where do I see you?”

“A Surprise,” Feliciano winked, “I have to go, ciao ciao, don’t overwork yourself, caro.” Swiftly the call was over and still Ludwig stood in his place perplexed, wondering and ordering what exactly just occurred. It was the same dilemma Elizabeta found herself in.

“What the hell….just happened?” She was still freaked but demanding to know, but not before going to the kitchen and picking them both something to drink, to settle any lingering of irritation and doubt.

“If it wasn’t Ludwig, then…who called her? A sister couldn’t have possibly made her react that way, besides, I swore I heard a man on the other line,” Feliciano wondered.

“And to lie and say it was Ludwig…do you think…?” Both their eyes met, for the same idea dropped on their minds, connecting, eyes widening and mouths falling aghast.

The first thing they did was laugh, mostly because Feliciano felt great relief, one that Elizabeta felt for her dear friend, understanding what he had been feeling throughout this.

Feliciano, ever since he found out about Ludwig’s marriage, had live with an ever present guilt knowing that he had taken from a woman the man that she loved. Memories of what happened to his mother repeated in his mind. He made up images of what Yekaterina would do if she found out, of breaking her and bringing doom to a lovely being as her. But now…it was as Ludwig had been saying all this time, there was nothing between them, and knowing that, brought to Feliciano a great freedom to his emotion, a release of a weight that brought him bliss, brought him to breathe and to alight in a whole new shine.

Ludwig was his, truly his and nobody else’s.

“Seems like Ludwig isn’t the only one with a secret lover, huh?” Elizabeta pointed, clinking their glasses of water as a toast.

“Yes!” He whispered victoriously, but Elizabeta could tell a brimming of emotion that wanted to dance with the news.

Feliciano suddenly remembered. “Elizabeta, do you have spare keys to Ludwig’s home?”

“Gilbert might. Let’s wait till he comes back with Luzia.”

He did, and Feliciano secretly took them once he knew their location.

< previous chapter                                                                                                     next chapter >

[mementosrp-blog]

( KIM YUHWA )

ALIAS › lily

FACTION › ada

( PERSONA )

BACKGROUND :  delicate beauty. gentle grace. endless power. the proud queen possessed it all. her pride was her downfall, her power useless when faced with humiliation, with the foolishness that love brought — love also almost came to cost yuhwa’s life; the pretty little girl in her pretty little dress with her pretty long hair and chin high up, elated with pride and power brought by influence and wealth. love and trust was her downfall and had it not been for the fair queen’s sedulous and protective core aligning with her own stubborn wish to keep fighting they would have never came to form a bond. titania; she carried the delicate beauty of a frail flower and the powers of a restless warrior.

ABILITY/ABILITIES :

– flower manipulation: titania has the ability to control, shape and manipulate all blooming plants; turning, for instance, vines into vicious grips and thorns into weapons as sharp and lethal as daggers.

– sleep manipulation:  she can induce and manipulate aspects of sleep in others. it’s possible for her to induce instantaneous sleep or tire someone out to have them fall asleep a more natural way. it’s also possible to force anyone sleeping to wake up regardless of the circumstances, which can come in handy should they put themselves into a dream like state for health recovery.

WEAKNESSES :

– the flowers are still fragile and delicate and therefore not especially durable, as well as incredibly susceptible to fire and ice attacks

– personas with strong mental abilities can’t be kept asleep for as long as she wishes and are sometimes able to control for how long they sleep or even, in some cases, if they’re affected at all

( STATS )

Knowledge : [ 6 / 25 ] Guts : [ 10 / 25 ] Proficiency : [ 14 / 25 ] Kindness : [ 3 / 25 ] Charm : [ 17 / 25 ]

— BACKGROUND

the white water lily « floating along restless waters ｡｡｡ »

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

｡the root ⁕

the flower seed was sown on soiled ground, poisoned and soaked with blood. there’s many secrets her family hides, many nooks and dark corners in the vast house she grew up in that hid grotesque memories of unresolved and restless lives.

yuhwa is the youngest child, the only daughter.

she’s wild, not passive; loud, not meek.

disapproving glances follow her wherever she goes. there’s loud voices and and harsh slaps and cruel punishments and as much as they try to get yuhwa to bend, she doesn’t break. there’s stubbornness in her, a fighting spirit that wants to grow and spread and entangle her roots deep within the earth.

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

｡the stem ⁕

yuhwa grows tall, like the stem of a lily. her shoulders are squared, her eyes are focused and she learnt to bend with the strong wind but not let it break her.

her family’s wealth and importance grew with her oldest brother’s marriage and while her parents and siblings all dinned at the table with laughter and music, she still had her place on the floor. it still hurt, deep in her chest, it still felt tight and uncomfortable to watch them, still stung bitterly in the corner’s of her eyes with each and every unshed tear. she’s still young and her voice only grows louder as she grips at her mother’s sleeves and desperately wails ’why’.

the answer never comes.

her hands are slapped away.

the girl locked into her room and sedated with pills as colourful as candy.

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

｡the leaves ⁕

she’s wild, they say. too savaged, like a beast. unrefined. a flower that bears thorns, too thick leaves with prickly ends wrapped around a delicate flower that had yet to show herself, had yet to bloom. yuhwa searches for love and encounters nothing, but rejection. she has three older brothers and three monsters living underneath the same roof as her. they push her down a staircase, try to burn her hair, try to look her into closets and crush her arms and legs between doors.

yuhwa learns to live with disgust cast her way, like she was marred and disfigured to a point of no return. she wasn’t even sure when it started, but remembered feeling tender touches and small affections as a young child. memories turned to dreams and yuhwa doubts her own mind, at times, thinks she must be going insane.

she’s only fourteen but lays awake late at night, gnawing her fingers bloody, her whole body restless and jittery as she stares straight at the ceiling of the cellar and tries to distinguish what was real and what was imagination.

why was she different?

she looked like them, she moved like them - didn’t she?

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

｡the flower ⁕

the flower blooms a year later and yuhwa doesn’t realise what the consequences until she’s shoved along dark corridors and into a metal ring. there’s an audience, loud cheers, a blinding light and an opponent. she didn’t know how to fight, but she was quick and small and pain was her teacher. bruises bloomed along her skin; sweat slicked, cut and dirty.

from the corner of her eye she always sees her family cheering and sneering at her pain and suffering - she’s nothing but an animal to them; a mean of entertainment.

it breaks her heart and it breaks her trust and it takes her a year to find titania and finally break free.

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

｡blooming ⁕

with sixteen years of age she’s living on the street, scamming and stealing, just to get along. she lives from one day to the other, spends nights falling asleep with a rumbling stomach and tears dried on her cheeks. her heart hurts, her chest is heavy - yuhwa knows how to bend, but not break. survival was what she was trained for, fighting for her life was what she became used to.

it happened purely by chance that a man she attempted to scam invited her to his agency. it’s a job he plans to offer her, but it’s advice and help she gets after he finds her age and living circumstances. yuhwa learns about support from the government, about how minors had to be taken care of and family.

she’s placed within a patchwork family with two other children and smiling adults.

two years pass in the blink of an eye and yuhwa enjoys a warm environment with people who care for her growth and education. the agent who had helped get her off the streets had ended up offering her a job again as soon as she turned eighteen and yuhwa accepted it without hesitance.

she cut her hair, moved out, keen to support herself instead of mooching off her adoptive parent’s.

modelling earns her just enough to get by, but it’s when the government finds her and the ADA is formed with  her that things really start to look up.

yuhwa is twenty-one and the flower is finally blooming.

                                               ⁕⁕⁕

{ diary of a beast -

17.1.2011

it hurts. my fingers are all bloody and my nose and cheek and shoulder are throbbing and i can still hear them cheer on and on and on and ON

i didn’t stop when the girl beneath me started screaming, i couldn’t, i was too scared. i’m sorry. i didn’t want to hurt her but i had to, i had to. i’m scared and i just want it to stop but begging and crying was useless. what did i do that they hate me so much? i tried to be good but being good didn’t make them love me. they always look at me like i’m a nuisance, like they don’t want me here. why not?

mother used to tell me i’m too feisty and too aggressive. i threw too many tantrums. i fought with my brothers too much. a girl doesn’t kick and throw punches she used to say but today they forced me to do just that.

gladiator brawls. there were so many people and so many kids. younger than me. older than me. they’re saying it’s either them or me. i don’t want it to be me, it hurts too much. i keep screaming and crying but nothing happens. i’m scared they’ll lead me there again.

                                              ⁕⁕⁕

3.4.2011

i hate them so much. i hate each and every one of them.

fighting has become easier by now. girls are weaker but they last longer, they can take more. the boys’ punches hurt more but they’re easier to hurt too.

i avoid looking at mirrors. i don’t think i’ll like what i see a lot.

the bruises are all fading but i feel like a monster. i’m being treated like one.

                                              ⁕⁕⁕

19.6.2011

i want them to hurt too.

i feel like i’ve been fighting my whole life. it’s always been a fight with my brothers, against them, for my parents’ love. it all got me nowhere, right? so why am i still fighting?

because i want to survive.

                                              ⁕⁕⁕

27.9.2011

something…. weird happened today.

i felt lightheaded and weak and i was losing. there was no energy in me. i just felt cold and my arms and legs felt so heavy. it was scary but in a way it was also relaxing. for a moment i thought it was nice to not have to fight. i wanted to give up.

and that’s when it happened…. like vines there was something wrapping around my limbs. it was weird. i couldn’t see anything but it was like there was a really soft touch, almost warm, and a really really faint voice but just for a moment.

i probably just imagined it but it was a good enough wake up call, it made me feel like i had some energy still left in me.

i’m taking that as a sign to continue fighting no matter how tiring it is.

                                              ⁕⁕⁕

2.12.2011

i don’t feel so lonely anymore. it’s like whenever i have a moment of weakness that warm touch comes back and that faint voice tries to talk to me. i can’t understand it properly and i can’t really hear what it’s saying but i think it’s the voice of a woman. when i’m back in my room i try to think who it could belong to but nothing comes to mind. sometimes it remind me a bit of how mother used to be when i was really really young but that is such a far away memory that i’m not even sure how much of it is actually real.

i don’t know if the voice and the touch is real either, but i like to think so. it’s like my very own angel that’s here to protect me.

i’ll show her, i’ll show them all that nothing will ever destroy me.

                                              ⁕⁕⁕

8.1.2012

titania. that’s her name.

it almost feels like a dream.

i had no chance today, i should have lost. i had used up all my adrenaline, i had used up all of my energy, i couldn’t move and everything was blurry and getting darker. i thought i had fainted but…

when i opened my eyes i wasn’t in the metal ring anymore instead there were dark walls and giant flowers and weird monsters. i heard her call out to me and i rant to her, i found her and i immediately knew that there was no time to be weak. giving up wasn’t an option. failing isn’t an option.

i refuse to be treated like a monster. i refuse to be kicked around for entertainment like a mutt.

i’ll take my life into my own hands again and now that i have titania by my side too nothing can stop me. i’ll grow up to become a queen. }

[bforbookslut]

Spartacus Reimagined as a Thracian Swordsmaiden in C. V. Wyk’s Blood and Sand – An ARC Review

I have given Blood and Sand by C. V. Wyk a ☆☆☆☆ rating. It is Book 1 of an untitled series. It belongs to the Young Adult Historical Fiction genre with some Fantasy. It is also a Retelling. Tor Teen publishes it. It will be published January 16, 2018.

The blurb reads:

The action-packed tale of a 17-year-old warrior princess and a handsome gladiator who dared take on the Roman Republic―and gave rise to the legend of Spartacus...

For teens who love strong female protagonists in their fantasy and historical fiction, Blood and Sand is a stirring, yet poignant tale of two slaves who dared take on an empire by talented debut author C. V. Wyk.

Roma Victrix. The Republic of Rome is on a relentless march to create an empire―an empire built on the backs of the conquered, brought back to Rome as slaves.

Attia was once destined to rule as the queen and swordmaiden of Thrace, the greatest warrior kingdom the world had seen since Sparta. Now she is a slave, given to Xanthus, the Champion of Rome, as a sign of his master’s favor. Enslaved as a child, Xanthus is the preeminent gladiator of his generation.

Against all odds, Attia and Xanthus form a tentative bond. A bond that will spark a rebellion. A rebellion that threatens to bring the Roman Republic to its end―and gives rise to the legend of Spartacus...

The story continues in Fire and Ash, coming in 2019 from Tor Teen.

Add to Your Shelf | Amazon

Follow Me On: Goodreads | Instagram | Other Reviews

Happy book birthday to Blood and Sand by C. V. Wyk! I don’t usually publish my reviews on release day but I’ve had a rough couple of days, plus, I started a new internship and was unable to schedule the review accordingly. Nevertheless, here it is! As always, my reviews may contain spoilers. I say may because what’s a spoiler to you may not be a spoiler for me.

Despite what I’ve seen reviews says about Blood and Sand being a story written by someone who has watched the 300 movies and played too many war games, I liked it. Was I completely blown away? No. But did it excite me at every turn? Hell yeah, it did! It deserves four stars from me because it was very well-written with every scene flowing seamlessly into the next. I really loved that we know that Mount Vesuvius was going to erupt and every moment was just leading up to that.

Fair warning that I’m not familiar with the stories and legends of Spartacus and I went into Blood and Sand completely blind. So, I’ve reading this with very fresh eyes and have no complaints at all about the plot. Of course, I have not been called a bitch for absolutely no reason and as always, I have my complaints (coughwheresmytriggerwarningcoughs).

But first, let me tell you why I loved Blood and Sand.

It started off on such a high! I think everyone and their grandparents know that Spartacus was a slave. Blood and Sand wastes no plot time by jumping straight into the slave auction and the momentum builds with every turn of the page. It doesn’t stop. It just rises and rises and rises. I also really loved that Blood and Sand does not make it a story of the Chosen one. While to us readers, Spartacus is a chosen one and they lead the rebellion and all that jazz, Blood and Sand is the story of Attia, the Thracian slave girl. There are no prophecies and no legends to accompany her story.

And god, I’m so done with the Chosen one tropes that this was such a lovely breath of fresh air!

I was a little bit bothered by how quickly Attia and Xanthus fell in love. Don’t get me wrong, there was still some build-up and it was pretty logical but it happened all too fast. And soon, the story focused quite a bit on their romance, however fleeting it was.

“What would the Maedi warrior know about smiling?” he said against her lips as he pulled her closer.

“Not enough,” she murmured.

Wyk’s writing is also incredibly beautiful and poetic. I haven’t had so much pleasure in highlighting all the quotable material in my kindle in such a long time. And even though quoting from an ARC is ill-advised, I’m going to do it anyway because I loved it all.

“Xanthus had known strong women in his life, but not like her. Even if she hadn’t been one of the legendary Maedi, there was a brightness inside her, a core of fire that burned steadily beneath her scarred bronze skin.”

Character-wise, Attia is my favourite. She was such a badass and a take-no-shit kind of girl that I couldn’t help but root for her along the way. I loved that she’s not a character with a girly or feminine side, something that so many leading ladies fall into once they find the man of their dreams. War and revenge thrum in her veins and she’d rather hear the clang of swords that pretty music. Not one bit of that changes; not even when she meets Xanthus and falls madly in love with him. What also made Attia so great was she created her family when she didn’t have one, drawing people around her in and I find that so relatable cause that’s me. I’ll be like “oh my sweet summer child come here”.

Although, she’s a little bit of a special snowflake.

“She could see the anger etched into his soul as permanently as the scars on his skin.”

Xanthus, on the other hand, felt like he was a little all over the place. I loved that he didn’t want to kill but was so good at it solely because he needed to survive. But I couldn’t get more out of his personality. He loves Attia, he’s protective of the people he deems his family, but I couldn’t get more. That doesn’t mean I hate him though. He’s a perfect YA hero, romantic and brooding but also very respectful of Attia. Also, he’s very, very sexy.

“He didn’t even have a helmet, and the tips of his dark hair seemed to turn gold in the sun.”

And now, to the negatives:

I have to address the elephant in the room. WHERE ARE MY TRIGGER WARNINGS??? Blood and Sand was full of trigger material and I think we’ve gotten to a point where YA literature should always come with a warning whether on the book, on the website, anywhere for fuck’s sake! The official press release would be perfect.

Some trigger warnings for Blood and Sand are: rape, sexual abuse, domestic violence, self-harm

Yeah, I get that it’s a book set in those heinous times but???? I would love to not have to read uncomfortable scenes, please and thank you.

One thing that really got me about Blood and Sand was the sex, or rather, the lack of it. And even the lack of a fade to black! I find that the sex in YA fantasy novels is exactly like their genre, a fantasy. Exactly like the Rowan/Aelin love scene in Empire of Storms. Jeez. It’s always so magical and pretty and full of fancy language or like Blood and Sand, straight up imaginary. Where’s the clumsy? Where’s the fumbling? (And this is coming from a virgin lol whatdoiknow?)

Like come on, I think we can do something a little more realistic.

Blood and Sand is an amazing read, especially if you’re a fan of Roman history and retellings featuring a strong heroine. It was perfectly wrapped up in anticipation for the second instalment which we have to wait an entire year for without the typical annoying cliffhanger. Attia and Xanthus are well-written and you can’t help but want to root for them. Plus, you’ll want to read it because C. V. Wyk has a way with words that just draws you in to Attia’s world and makes you want to never leave.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC copy in exchange for an honest review. This review edition may differ from the final edition.

[mdenglobal-blog]

Delta by-election: PDP, APC in big battle for warri South

Posted By: Sola O’Neil On: April 25, 2017 Southsouth Regional Editor Sola O’Neil writes on the battle by the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), the All Progressives Congress (APC) and other parties for the Warri South constitutency 1 seat in the Delta State House of Assembly, which became vacant following the demise of Hon. Omawumi Udoh, the longest serving woman member of the House. Ordinarily, the Delta State House of Assembly by-election coming up tomorrow, April 26 in Warri South Constituency 1 ought to be a contest among political parties. The winner, who will serve barely two years, will fill the void left by the death of Hon Omawumi Udoh, the longest serving member of the Assembly, who lost her battle against cancer last December. But, the contest has assumed a lot more significance because of the actors and plots to grab power in the 2019 elections. The first twist is that the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) crisis at the national level is affecting the state chapter and Warri South West chapter. Already, a court has ruled that the Sherrif’s faction of the party is the ‘authentic’ PDP, much to the chagrin of the supporters of former Kaduna state governor, Ahmed Makarfi, who is locked in the battle for the soul of the PDP with Sheriff, a former governor of Borno State. The Delta State governor, Senator Arthur Ifeanyi Okowa belongs to Markafi PDP. Fearing the outcome of a Supreme Court case, asked his candidate, Mrs. Shola Ogbemi Daibo, to switch to the Accord Party, where she easily picked the ticket to run for the election. The structure of the Makarfi-led PDP is believed to be behind Mrs Daibo, younger sibling of the Olu of Warri, Ogiame Ikenwoli, and the Accord Party (AP) in Delta state is now jokingly referred to by PDP members as ‘According to PDP’ (AP). The PDP/AP accord goes way back in the state; AP is often used as a surrogate for displaced and aggrieved PDP members. In 2007, when former PDP Chairman, Ahmadu Ali, insisted, against party’s faithful’s will, to field his wife for the Delta North Senatorial contest, Senator Patrick Osakwe, a key ally of former Governor James Ibori, got Accord Party’s ticket to run against Mrs. Nnaemaka Ali. Osakwe won the contest with the support of Ibori and the governorship candidate, Dr. Emmanuel Uduaghan. Similarly, Victor Ochei, the former Speaker of House of Assembly, adopted the option after losing out to Okowa in the December 7, 2015 primary. Sadly for Ochei, who is now a member of the APC, he didn’t get the same result as Osakwe. The above factors become more intriguing with the entry of Prince Stanley Emiko of the All Progressive Party (APC). Emiko is Mrs Daibo’s nephew and son of Prince Yemi Emiko, a very influential member of the inner circle of Olu Ogiame Ikenwoli’s palace. The youthful Emiko is the major hurdle on the path of his aunt, and his ambition is creating ripples in the palace. It has polarised the prince and princess. “Never mind what you hear that ‘all contestants are Olu’s children’, there is always a candidate that is favoured and preferred and the case of this election is no exception,” a source added. But, Prince Yemi Emiko, the palace spokesperson, Mrs Daibo’s brother and father of Prince Emiko, said the palace was happy about the contest and not distracted by it. “The palace is happy because for the first time the royal house directly has an opportunity to put somebody in the state house, so if it falls either way it is coming to the palace. That’s the attitude of the palace and we don’t have any bitter undercurrent about this at all because we believe that it is also very good for Nigeria’s democracy. “I don’t see where the bad blood will come from because it’s all in the family. No undercurrent at all. If it goes either way, it’s still in the palace, that’s our attitude about it. We are one big happy family, so if it comes from the left or the right, we are happy about it and then we will all meet, as you will see later, and celebrate victory because it’s going to be our victory, whichever way the pendulum swings, there’s no bitterness at all.” Beyond the palace politics, there are also concerns that the contest could further widen the PDP/APC division among Itsekiri leaders, groups and individuals. The mudslinging and social media brickbats, could drive the wedge deeper among the royal family members. However, the main contest is not between the Emiko family members; the real gladiators are the PDP and APC overlords. In the ring of the PDP in this regard are Dr Ifeanyi Okowa and the Makarfi-led PDP on the one hand, and Chief Ayiri Emami, one of the most visible faces of the APC in Warri politics and other members of the party. The billionaire, it was gathered, was instrumental to the emergence of Emiko, and for him, it is the real first battle since dumping the PDP for the APC in 2015. “The battle takes a real significance for the characters involved because Ayiri, a former member of the PDP and key player in past elections, knows all the PDP election tricks; he even devised some of them. So, it is a game of football with two monkeys as goalkeepers; who scores and how? “Ayiri will be desperate to prove that the PDP lost a magic wand when he left them, while the PDP in Warri wants to prove that his departure has not affected their structure. This is a grudge match and all the trappings of a great contest are inherent,” a political analyst, who is affiliated with one of the political parties, said. But, apart from being a clash of personalities, the real issue at stake is the 2019 election. This election will be the first conducted by the Independent National Election Commission (INEC) in the state since the PDP lost power at the centre. Despite the lack of strong opposition in the PDP controlled state, Governor Okowa is still vulnerable in the absence of the ‘Abuja Connection’ that wrought his resounding victory in 2015. A defeat for his candidate would embolden the APC and shake the PDP in Warri South and the two other Warri LGAs, from where PDP gets the votes that decide elections, especially the gubernatorial. It would be a pointer of who wins the area in the next House of Representatives, Senatorial and Governorship election. Alluding much to this, Ayiri told The Nation, “We want to win the election; both parties want to win because we know who is who in the area and we know those who do the job. Our determination is that the best candidate should win.” Also for the palace, the contest has some ramifications: The outcome of the election will affect relationships among the chiefs and the family members who might be perceived to be supporting or bringing one or the other down. Ayiri insisted that Ogiame Ikenwoli is neutral: “Some persons are putting pressure on our respected king to ask the boy (Stanley Emiko) to step down, but he said they are his children and they should go and slug it out.”

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  chapter 4 [end]

No one said very much until they were all in the bathing facilities. Alit muttered under his breath something under his breath that no one could quite hear clearly, but he didn’t sound very pleased in general. Gilag took a long look at the facilities and sighed as he got ready to clean up. He likely would’ve preferred a lake of some kind to these, Ryouga mused, getting himself ready as well.

As far as he was concerned, and he suspected Durbe as well, given their shared past, this reminded him just a fraction too much of home. Enough so he could appreciate it, enough so that he wished they weren’t here and he wasn’t thinking about it.

He could imagine Rio felt the same way on her side, where they weren’t allowed to go. Very strict in some ways, this place was.

But sooner or later they all settled in to wash, and once the aches and pains of riding began to soak out of them, they relaxed. And it was Alit who said what hovered in the back of everyone’s mind to some extent.

“Are we supposed to be trusting Vector with this? How do we know he’s not going to… I don’t know, do something?” He waved one hand in the air to convey everything that his words couldn’t.

Durbe scrubbed at his shoulders thoughtfully. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt any of us before. I don’t think he’s going to start now. And if he does, I think Mizael can manage him.”

“If he doesn’t have plans to manage Mizael first,” Alit muttered, sinking until only his head remained out of the water. “That’s kind what I’m worried about.”

“I don’t blame you,” Ryouga agreed, through the noise of busily washing his hair. Alit couldn’t help the occasional peek; not only was Ryouga a generally attractive specimen of humanity, but Alit hadn’t ever seen him with his hair absolutely soaked. It was kind of an interesting look, really. But then the bard kept talking. “But Mizael’s good at what he does, and he has a good head on his shoulders.”

Durbe chuckled, a soft, amused sound. “He also has a dragon. If he gets into anything that he can’t handle, Jinlong will help him.”

Ponta splashed through the water, floating on his back in the next moment. “He wants the ranger very much. But he hasn’t taken what he wanted until the ranger agreed to it.”

True enough words. Whatever other plans Vector had – and none of them were so foolish to think that Vector, connected in some way to their employer that none of them fully knew – didn’t have plans of <some kind, they didn’t involve assault of that kind.

Seduction, more than likely, but not assault.

Ryouga ducked his head under long enough to wash the shampoo out of his hair and resurfaced with a loud noise that Alit couldn’t help but laugh at. He laughed even more when Ryouga gave him a very annoyed look about it.

“What kind of a sea creature sound was that?” The ex-gladiator wanted to know. Ryouga grinned, his teeth flashing in the magically created lights.

“When I was a child, my nickname was Shark.”

Alit blinked. “What’s a shark?”

“May I touch your hair?” Vector despised asking. He wanted to take what he wanted and have it as long as he desired it, but when dealing with five skilled fighters of various disciplines, a winged horse, a creature that just was magic and could do too much for his personal comfort, and a dragon – perhaps especially the dragon – then he had to ask.

But as he’d observed before, it made getting his desires that much more satisfying, and even better, people wouldn’t try to take what he craved away from him when he’d been given it freely. For a small sacrifice, he got much, much bigger rewards.

Mizael considered him for a few moments before he nodded, and Vector lost no more time. He ran his hands carefully over Mizael’s hair, still damp from the bath, and shivered.

“That fool was right about one thing,” Vector murmured, stroking over and over, slowly sliding his fingers deeper into the strands of living gold. “Your hair is like silk. Only better.”

Mizael leaned further into Vector’s touch, making a somewhat contented noise. Vector kept on stroking, and with his other hand, turned Mizael’s face toward him, moving forward to kiss him.

He’d kissed Mizael many times since that incident at the tavern, savoring each one. Kisses when they woke up. Kisses before sleep or going on watch. Random kisses throughout the day. Not all of those kisses were on the lips: only those that others might see. When it was just the two of them, Vector indulged them both by finding new places to rest his lips.

Now he pressed Mizael closer to him, neither of them with a stitch on, the long length of the elf’s body so warm against him. Dinner would be there soon, but he wanted an appetizer first.

His kisses wandered downward to Mizael’s chest, then up again, hands beginning to roam away from Mizael’s hair to play with his strong shoulders, then tease at his hips and legs.

Vector found himself a little surprised at Mizael’s own actions a brief moment later. The ranger not only returned the heady, intoxicating kisses, but slipped his lips downward to rest at the hollow of Vector’s throat, his tongue flicking out to caress there repeatedly.

No one had ever tried anything like that with him before. All of his other trysts focused on him enjoying himself with the use of whoever shared his bed. Very seldom had they tried anything new with him, but only obeyed whatever orders he gave them.

Mizael wasn’t much of one to take orders, he’d learned, and part of his anticipation had been to train that out of him.

Now, as Mizael teased and nibbled there, and pleasure Vector hadn’t experienced before stirred, he considered a different approach.

He didn’t consider it for long, mostly because Mizael started working his lips and tongue and a bit of tooth on his neck, and Vector didn’t find himself able to think about anything very clearly for quite some time.

When he got his thoughts working again, he stared into one of the mirrors in the bathing area, touching the part of his neck where Mizael did his work.

“What is that?” It was like a bruise and it would stay there for a while. Mizael shrugged.

“It’s like something dragons do. It’s similar to a mating bite, but it doesn’t mean permanence.” His teeth flashed in a sudden smile. “I’d have to draw blood for it to be permanent.”

Vector wondered for a few moments if he should’ve done research on how dragon relationships worked, as well as what checking he’d done for elven ones. Mizael was an odd mixture of the two, and somehow different from both of them at the same time.

He couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. What was rare as well as beautiful appealed to him, and Mizael fit that category easily enough.

He touched the mark again. He would have to return this favor, something that told all who looked at Mizael that he belonged to Vector, be it now or be it forever.

He would think about it. It would have to be just right.

A quiet tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. He knew what that was: the alert that dinner had arrived. Pulling a robe on, he went to get it, pleased now that he could take more control of the situation. Having Mizael willingly join in was a fresh thrill he appreciated, but he’d planned this once he realized their first tryst would take place here in the Gryphon. He wanted Mizael to enjoy this as much as he did.

It was a quick trip up to the suite they’d occupy for their time here and he kept one arm around Mizael the whole time, releasing him only when they arrived in the main room, where a delicious set of aromas arose from the covered tray awaiting them on a low table. A single lounge rested on one side of the table and he guided Mizael there, both of them settling down on it. The lounge, like everything in this suite, had been arranged to be perfect for two people to entwine around one another on it.

And like that, the dinner was exactly what he’d ordered: the lovers’ meal, everything cut into small pieces, suitable for sharing between two, and arranged so that one could feed the other, every bit of it designed to please and tempt the diners.

Not that Vector needed tempting very much. But he picked up a cut of meat he knew Mizael enjoyed and offered it to him. Seeing the ranger accept it, eating from his hands, sent a jolt of raw pleasure through Vector. He couldn’t wait to see it again and reached for another.

Mizael beat him to a piece, however, setting it against Vector’s lips. Vector had somewhat expected this, after Mizael’s earlier actions, and licked it before taking in his mouth, making sure his tongue brushed over Mizael’s lips when he did.

Piece by piece they fed each other dinner, stealing kisses and touches in between, and sipping from the shared cup of wine – imported from Kuragari, and not often seen outside of the royal household.

Vector had many privileges.

Mizael wasn’t at all inexperienced in acts such as this. He’d never met someone that he wanted to stay with for longer than a handful of years, and to one of his blood, that meant nothing at all.

Vector wouldn’t be any different. A handful of years, if even that – the meat of their bargain was more or less that they’d continue in this vein either until one of them chose to end it or until they both agreed that the debt Mizael owed to Vector was paid in full. That, of course, was something only Vector could decide though Mizael had his own thoughts on what would constitute full payment.

Given that in effect, Vector saved him from what could’ve been an entire lifetime by elven standards of enslavement, then it could indeed be that handful of years.

Only time would tell that. And now time had nothing else to say, leaving Mizael and Vector to soft touches with a hint of an edge to them, and the slow removal of robes to reveal more and more skin that could be and was peppered with teasing kisses and the brush of fingers and tongues, pleasure mounting between them with the friction of flesh against flesh.

Mizael found himself at one point hoping that there was either some kind of silence spell such as the others had discussed, or enough space between here and there that no one could hear anything anyway. He wasn’t always noisy with his lovers, but Vector wasn’t inexperienced either, and soon enough the first waves of sensual delight hit their peak for both of them.

Once everything eased enough so they could talk, Mizael cupped himself around Vector and stared into those so mischievous eyes.

“It was worth waiting for,” Vector said before Mizael formed a question. He played one hand through Mizael’s sweat-streaked hair. “And to think it’s only just begun.”

Mizael slid his own hands through Vector’s orange-red locks. He didn’t hunger for the human like Vector so clearly hungered for him, but it had been a long time since he’d sated those desires. Long before he’d met Ryouga and Rio and Durbe, in fact.

“How long did you plan to stay here?” While no one had said, they were clearly here on Vector’s schedule, even with the mission they had ahead of them. They’d lost one day’s worth of travel but they weren’t on much of a schedule.

Vector closed one eye and twisted the side of his mouth. Mizael didn’t help his looks all that much. “I’d rather like to stay a couple of months, but I think dear Ryouga -” He said it as if the name offended him, a taste to it that Mizael had never heard him use before, “would probably want to be on the trail again at dawn.”

Mizael couldn’t argue that point. But he didn’t think he’d be up to riding after the night Vector clearly had in mind. “Three days,” he offered. “Long enough for all of us to rest from everything.”

Vector smiled a slow, sensual smile and then slipped out from the couch, rising to his feet and offering Mizael one hand. “I think in three days, I might be ready to leave.”

Mizael took the hand and was pulled to his own feet. Vector turned them both toward the bedroom, one arm again pulling Mizael close. They stayed that way until Vector lowered Mizael to the bed and joined him, hungry lips taking kiss after kiss, on Mizael’s lips and everywhere else that Vector could find that would bring any sort of enjoyment whatsoever.

Vector knew very well how to please a lover, and how to show his lover what he enjoyed as well. All through the night he and Mizael learned more and more about one another, with the seemingly infinite resources of the Golden Gryphon at their disposal. Vector found him a quick study and their evening rolled onward.

Vector let his thoughts drift, Mizael resting in his arms. He’d seldom felt this sated, even on other occasions when he’d brought a new lover to the Gryphon and enjoyed all it offered him. Perhaps it was because of how much effort he’d put into winning Mizael here in the first place. Or perhaps it was because Mizael was the first elven lover he’d ever had.

As for that, if all elves were like Mizael when it came to wanton pleasures, Vector knew a few places he’d recommend to recruit among the fae people. The Pearl Whistle came to mind. Nearly as fine as the Golden Gryphon it was, though it focused on matters other than simply lodging guests in royal splendor.

Once he grew bored with Mizael, and he and his father had their other plans brought to fruition, perhaps he’d have him installed at the Pearl as well. He could still visit him on occasion if he desired, and Mizael could hardly complain about the luxurious food or the splendid accommodations or the work he’d do. The Pearl’s employees weren’t common harlots at all, but serviced the highest ranking folk in the land, and infrequently at that. Great generals and even some heroes – carefully chosen so they would not be offended by being granted time at the Pearl – were sent there at Don Thousand’s command only. In between times, the king himself sometimes would call one to his quarters. Vector’s own mother still lived at the Pearl, forever honored for having given Don Thousand a son and his only heir. She wasn’t high enough in birth to be his official bride, but he favored her with his attentions still.

I won’t send him there for a long, long time, though. It would take years for the plans to all be accomplished, and maybe even more for him to grow weary of Mizael. The ranger proved very inventive and possessed of even more stamina than Vector imagined.

And until that day did come, he could enjoy himself with Mizael whenever he desired. He rested now. Dawn would come soon, and he looked forward to a full day of Mizael’s undivided attention.

Ryouga, Rio, Durbe, Alit, and Gilag waited outside of the Golden Gryphon’s doors. Early morning sunlight already gleamed off dew-dampened grass. They’d been awake since before the sun crested the horizon and all of them wanted to get moving.

“Aren’t they done yet?” Alit grumbled. None of them had seen or heard a thing from Mizael or Vector since they’d arrived here and Vector swept Mizael off to what they’d later been told was the finest suite in the entire hotel. They’d received one message alone, stating today would be the day they left, and after that, nothing at all.

They all knew what the two were doing, and once or twice, they’d heard hotel servants whispering about it, about how beautiful Mizael was and how lucky he was that Vector – though they never called him that without prefacing it with m’lord - chose him.

Alit hadn’t been able to keep a straight face around most of the servants after hearing that.

Other bits and drips of news concerning Vector and his previous visits here made them all a little wary for how long this ‘tryst’ might last and what Vector might do when it was over, but aside from warning Mizael when they had some time to do so, there wasn’t much else that they could do.

Finally a door opened and Mizael stepped out, every inch well rested and relaxed, and wearing his usual riding gear. Vector was only a step behind, every bit as relaxed, and with the most satisfied smile on his face any of them had ever seen. Alit kind of wished he wouldn’t smile like that. It creeped him out.

“Good to see you,” Durbe said, nodding toward both of them. “I trust matters went well?” He was the soul of discretion, Durbe was.

Vector flashed a grin at him, one that spoke of mischief as always. “Absolutely perfectly. We’re going to stop in here on our way back, of course.”

Ryouga just rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get going. The more time we can make, the better.”

Soon enough the small group headed down the road that led away from here and on to their mission. No one wanted to ask any more details from either of them. Especially not after Vector rode close to Mizael, entwined an arm around Mizael’s waist, and pulled him in for a deep kiss that Mizael returned. Perhaps not with as much enthusiasm, but returned all the same.

They also didn’t ask about the fresh love-bites on both of them. Alit really didn’t want to know about that. It was all Gilag could do to keep Ponta from asking questions that he didn’t want to know: the questions or the answers.

For long days after they left the Golden Gryphon, whenever they stopped at an inn of any size, Vector always made certain to get a private room for himself and Mizael, and the next morning, he always had the same smug, satisfied smile on his face.

But no one heard anything, because by then they’d perfected a spell of silence, and no one complained about it at all. Least of all Vector.

He had so many plans, and he needed the occasional tryst with Mizael to relax himself. The future was right in his grasp and he would need someone to share it with. Mizael, he considered, might be a good choice.

The End

Notes: Someday soon (uh, maybe in 2017?), there will be another story in this world, involving what Yuuma and some of the non-Barian people are doing. Until then...

[ganymedesclock]

Champion, Emperor, and King

So I went on a rambling tangent to a friend of mine and came back to something about the two Black Paladins we’ve encountered, Black Lion herself, and Shiro’s title of Champion.

First and foremost: There’s some implied themes of royalty to the Black Lion, and the paladin that stands by her side. Voltron, when in its strongest form, has five heads, and Black’s stands above the others. She is the head of Voltron, literally and figuratively, and she is, to a degree, symbolically crowned.

The other Lions all have ears that are usually a mix of gray and one other color. Black is the only one who has golden ears- noteworthy, because when Voltron itself is form, those ears transform into horns.

One of the primary stated virtues of the Black Paladin is they are someone who others “follow without question.” This does not merely suggest force of personality and a strong will, but rather, someone who others reflexively turn to. In practice, we see this with both Shiro and Zarkon, with how their respective allies acknowledge them and look to them in situations of doubt. The first time Lance turns to Shiro, no one asks him to do so, and no discussion has been made about who’s in charge. But Lance defers to Shiro. When Shiro was incapacitated on his arrival to Earth, we don’t see a decisive leader between the paladins as much as they collaborate, all piling in their ideas and input as it comes up.

While Zarkon was seemingly always king of the galra (well, he was presumably prince in the past), I would not be surprised if the Black Paladin being a figure others turn to when they are uncertain or scared was a major component in Zarkon being able to shape the galra into the empire they became- after all, the galra homeworld was destroyed. Something on that caliber happening- seemingly, in a way that cast doubt on the trustworthiness of their closest allies- it’s the perfect recipe for panic. These people would be terrified, and they’d look to their king for guidance. 

Like the Black Bayard, like many other things- it is an element of Zarkon’s capabilities and former position he has judiciously abused since then. That kingly regalia, and presence of authority- the tendency to be acknowledged in any situation. Much of Zarkon’s current very prickly relationship with others is his desire to lead and be followed, to be a leader, to be honored and even revered- conflicting harshly with his inability to accept any control besides his own, making him tyrannical and dominating.

Zarkon has moved beyond the king- he is the emperor, enthroned and weighted with ten thousand years of experience, of conquest. The other paladins were crushed and scattered, his rule is unquestioned. He has become a kind of grandiose exaggeration of the nobility of the Black Paladin. Everything belongs to him, lives for him, dies for him. When an opponent actually poses a threat, he is loathe to actually consider it so, rather being sort of surprised that this annoyance is taking longer to die than usual.

And while at a glance it just seems like villainous ego, I would argue at least where Shiro is concerned, it’s Zarkon’s fatal flaw.

Because Zarkon is the emperor- but Shiro is the Champion.

I feel like there’s some misconstruing afoot around that particular term. And sure, it is introduced to us in a very bloody light- the story of what happened to Matt Holt, and Shiro’s becoming a slave gladiator. I think that this is arguably deliberate, because Shiro has a pretty significant self-loathing problem. In particular, with this lore of royalty around the Black Lion, as a figurative sword in the stone- Shiro is someone who pulled the sword out in a moment of necessity but afterwards comes back and believes that this has to be a fluke. Someone so broken, with history so tainted, cannot deserve such an honor.

But the thing about the Champion is that it’s a kind of crown, even one that Shiro doesn’t want to acknowledge. And it was not given to him by Zarkon, by Haggar, by Sendak- by the people who were trying to subjugate him.

Who is it that identifies Shiro as the Champion- who explains what it means, who arguably tells Shiro his own legend?

The prisoners of the empire.

Shiro was one of them. Captured, defenseless, scared- marked to die for the entertainment of the empire. At the very start of the show Shiro was brought into and made a part of Zarkon’s empire at the very bottom, the lowest possible level.

But Shiro took control. Something that no prisoner under the empire would have- that a slave, and especially not a slave gladiator, would ever be allowed. He decided who was going in that ring and who wasn’t. When given a sword and effectively ordered to die, he survived and emerged victorious.

Sure- that legend also paints Shiro in a bloodthirsty, terrifying light. However... the person that identifies him as the Champion, what is his takeaway?

“If anyone can save us, he can.”

Shiro’s reputation isn’t that of a murderous beast. It’s someone who is fierce, terrifying- but honorable. Trustworthy. As dark as that legend is- to the prisoners who tell it, who seem to have coined that name for him, who otherwise familiarized themselves with this person and know Shiro by name as well as title, it’s a beacon of hope.

Ulaz, describing Shiro: “As a leader, you bring hope. Earth needs you.”

Where would he get that idea if Shiro’s only reputation was a bloodthirsty gladiator? Certainly, no more notable than Myzax, who had no distinguishing title.

Where would Ulaz even get the idea that Shiro was a leader- if he hadn’t caused some serious trouble in the past?

Basically, to the prisoners of the empire, the Champion isn’t the thing that goes bump in the night, and he’s not their grim reaper.

He’s their king.

At the lowest, desperate, most fearful level of the empire- people who had no choice but to become a part of Zarkon’s world, who would have every reason to hate and revile him- they found their own leader and turned to him. And the group rescued in s1e1? Quite implicitly- they were sent back to their original planets. They went home- and they’d carry that with them.

You know not even Zarkon could keep him hostage. You know he’s with Voltron now- he leads them.

Shiro hears that name, and that story, and all he thinks about is it’s another way of calling him a monster. But there’s reverence to the prisoner that names him. At this point, Shiro doesn’t remember what he used that title for- what he seems to have done. But it’s probably fair to guess: Shiro is driven, defiant, and if something is wrong he will chew out the person responsible and nothing will stop him. He’s not someone who can be frightened into silence.

His judgment of individuals like Lubos who abuse their position is harsh, and we see in s2e7 that verbally, Shiro utterly eviscerates Zarkon- tears into him.

Because Zarkon thinks all he needs to be worthy of the throne is strength. If he can fight Shiro down, if he can crush the other’s windpipe in his hand, he can be nothing but the rightful Black Paladin.

Shiro’s response is basically noblesse oblige. If you fail to care for anyone but yourself and your agenda, you’re no king. Literally dangling from Zarkon’s arm with the latter’s hands around his throat his defiance does not waver. 

And the situation pretty clearly favors Shiro’s stance. Zarkon, the emperor, with all of his conquest and power around him- utterly fails, because Shiro, the king in rags, is framed as the true royalty here- not by blood, but by moral character. He does not need to play Zarkon’s game and defeat him in conquest- he’s rescued by the Black Lion. Because he’s the true Black Paladin- not Zarkon- he is protected. And there’s going to be hell to pay if Zarkon tries to drag Shiro into the astral realm like that again. 

But Zarkon can’t acknowledge the idea that there is any other king- any challenge to his claim of Black Paladin. And he certainly cannot even fathom that such an individual would come from the ranks of the prisoners, people who he considers so far beneath him that they live and die purely for his enjoyment.

As someone who has rejected anything besides dominance and power- Zarkon can’t even recognize the danger posed by giving the most crestfallen people under his control a beacon of hope in the form of the Champion- of the person who would not be controlled, of the person who would not die.

Of someone who, even whisked away to an uncertain fate, held onto the armor of the Black Paladin.

Basically: Zarkon’s fucked, but he doesn’t even realize it. At this point neither Zarkon or even Shiro himself quite process the position he’s in. Because, going back to what I was saying about crowns and that symbol of royalty:

Zarkon wears a distinctive metal headpiece, a very simplified militaristic crown for someone who believes, again, in power, force, and nothing else.

Shiro has his paladin helmet, but, more significantly, the main persistent detail on the top of his head is that lone white streak in his hair- a crowning detail, and very likely a scar- specifically, it and the scar on the bridge of his nose mark the wounds that killed his GoLion counterpart.

Basically, Shiro is wearing the injuries that “should” have killed him and he spat his blood out and said “not good enough”. He’s the thing that won’t die. 

As far as I remember, I don’t think anyone in high command has acknowledged Shiro by the name “Champion”- Zarkon has not acknowledged Shiro by any name, Haggar states that Shiro should have been their weapon, and Sendak calls him a monster.

But the prisoners refer to him as Champion- and a champion can be read as “the victor”, as Shiro was victorious over Myzax- but the name carries other connotations. A champion as opposed to a soldier is implicitly one with a cause- a champion of a faith, for example.

And Shiro’s misunderstanding of the context behind the name would make perfect sense- just like he misunderstands his relationship with the Black Lion. That can’t mean anything good. He’s tainted. He doesn’t think he’s worthy.

But, time and time again- he’s proved wrong in that regard.